


R U Mine?

by Charlie_chan16



Series: rock you like a hurricane [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Obi-Wan is 27, anakin is 24, obikin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24604462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_chan16/pseuds/Charlie_chan16
Summary: The 501st need a drummer. Obi-Wan seems perfect for the role.Who says a little romance isn't nice on the side?
Relationships: Barriss Offee/Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & CT-7567 | Rex, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: rock you like a hurricane [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861459
Comments: 37
Kudos: 100





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Where the author couldn't let the idea of Obi-Wan being a drummer and Anakin having a raspy singing voice go. 
> 
> And yes, the title is the Artic Monkeys song of the same name. 
> 
> Now with a playlist; https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5de495Fn8lIyFLcb5ntZoJ

“ You said you were looking for a drummer right?” Padmé asked suddenly, index finger appearing right underneath Anakin’s nose and body leaning over the table. He could smell her perfume and wrinkled his nose in mock disgust at the scent. 

“Oh, stop being such a drama queen. Have you been looking for a drummer? It’s a simple yes or no question,” she asked again, rolling her eyes. Anakin fiddled with the sandwich he held for a few seconds, chewing his mouthful in thought. 

“Yeah. What of it?” he replied after swallowing, scowling as he remembered how their last drummer stormed out of rehearsal out of anger. Anakin recalled it was somehow because of him, although he couldn’t recall the context. Something stupid probably, he didn’t really care. The guy was a jerk anyway.

Ashoka elbowed his stomach hard, causing him to hiss and clutch his ribs. “What?” he asked incredulously, staring at her in mock betrayal. 

“We know you might be tired Skyguy but that doesn’t mean you get to be rude to Padmé , ” she told him as Anakin groaned leaning back in his seat. 

He rubbed his eyes in exhaustion before trying again. “I apologise Padmé. Do tell us where this is leading,” he said before turning to Ashoka and asking, “better?” She nodded. 

“Well, you know how I have a lecture at—” 

“Nine am Monday morning we know,” Anakin and Ashoka answered in unison. “You only mention it like, every week,” Anakin expanded. “It’s kinda hard to forget.” 

“Well, next time you have an early class I’ll be sure to not bring you coffee,” Padmé shot back and Anakin began to protest loudly, earning some annoyed looks from the other patrons around them and he blushed, ducking his head. 

“Anyway, as I was saying. There’s always this one guy late to class, every time. And he looks like he’s just come from a gym class, or maybe he ran for the bus I’m not sure,” Padmé continued. “But, this morning, I spotted him slipping a pair of drumsticks into his shoulder bag as he came in.” 

Ashoka and Anakin shared a hopeful look. “Do you think he’s good? Do you think he’d be willing to join? Is he nice? Have you talked to him about it?” Anakin asked, prepared to fire some more questions but Ashoka darted forward, shoving her hand against his mouth and stopping his onslaught. 

Padmé laughed good naturedly before answering every question. “The main problem is, I don’t know whether he is good enough, and I don’t exactly want to ask unless I want to seem creepy,” she told them, biting her lip in thought. “I mean, I guess I could try to follow him to the practise rooms and see if I can listen in?” 

The other two glanced at each other once again, feeling sceptical about this plan, but Padmé’s mind already seemed to be made up. Grabbing her books from the table, she stood from her chair, chucking the remains of her food in the bin beside her. “I’ll keep you two posted,” she said and dashed off in a flurry of papers and books. 

“This could either end with us having a new drummer, or Padmé with a restraining order,” Ashoka said as the two of them calmly cleared their table. 

“I have faith in her. But just in case, maybe prep your Mom. She might be useful if things go sideways,” Anakin said, chuckling quietly as he said his goodbyes to his best friend. 

The day passed slowly, and Anakin found himself glancing at his watch every few minutes. He couldn’t wait to get out of the stuffy lecture hall and back home. He found himself daydreaming through the last half an hour, imagining himself in the garage underneath Artoo; the smell of car oil and grease wiggling its way into his nose, the sound of rock music thumping away in the corner from his crummy speakers. 

He practically had a skip in his step as he left the lecture, big chunky headphones immediately being slipped over his head. And no, he didn’t get them to look cool or ironic. He bought them because they’re the best in the market for sound quality, and wireless which meant Anakin was less likely to get angry when it inevitably became tangled and was tempted to simply cut the wire. 

With his hands in his hoodie pocket, he gracefully hopped into the bus, heading for the back. The backseats were always warmed by the engine underneath, so it was a perfect seat for a nap. 

It was a half an hour bus drive from his college to the garage, forty five in traffic. But, luck seemed to be on Anakin’s side and the roads stood practically empty, and hardly anyone got on which shortened his ride to twenty minutes. 

He waved to the driver as he got off, smiling kindly and stepping back to allow an old lady aboard the transport. He could see Lou’s garage up ahead, and within its confines, Artoo. He jogged across the road, opening the door to the building and grinning at the chime of the bell above the frame. 

“Hey Lou! How’s it going?” Anakin called as he dumped his bag on the floor.

Rolling up his sleeves, he wandered over to the glass booth off to the side, leaning against the door frame as Lou yawned widely. 

“Ah you know, same old same old,” he replied, smiling tiredly at him. “How’re those classes? Ya ain’t skipping any are ya?” Anakin chuckled and shook his head. 

“No, that was a one time thing,” he said, remembering how he’d run out of a lecture, feeling an impending panic attack – which had turned up rudely with no warning and no cause too, huh weird - and had practically sprinted to get the bus to the garage. His mom had not been happy when she’d gotten the call from Lou that he had a crying young adult in his garage, and could she come pick him up before he fell asleep on the floor please? 

“You sure?” Lou asked, scrutinising him carefully and Anakin laughed, lifting up his arms in acquiesce, backing out of the booth to get to work. 

“How’s Artoo?” Anakin called as he ran his hand over the car's bonnet. It looked squeaky clean, its blue racing stripes almost sapphire in the artificial lighting of the garage. He could hear Lou standing from his chair with a huff before coming to stand at Anakin’s side. 

“It’s alternator needs a bit of cleaning, and the oil could do with a change,” he commented, glancing down at the clipboard he held between his fingers. 

“And the fan belt?” Anakin queried, popping the hood to take a look at the engine below. 

“Eh, could do with a bit of work. But, apart from that he’s almost ready,” Lou replied, tucking the clipboard under his armpit to wipe his hands with a towel. 

Anakin grinned in glee at the thought, climbing into the driver’s seat and placing his hands on the wheel. He loved driving almost more than he loved playing guitar. He loved the adrenaline it brought, the feel of your life in your hands as you turned sharp corners and tight fits. Taking a deep breath, Anakin got out of the car. 

“He looks great, Lou but I can’t stay. Have an assignment to finish,” he said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “But I’ll be back tomorrow to look at that alternator, all right?” 

“Sure, sure. I’ll be here, ain’t nobody but ol’ Lou here,” he replied with a chuckle and Anakin waved in farewell, darting back out into the cold autumn air once more. 

**_________________**

**Future President [19:52]**

Aha! We have progress

**Skyguy [20:01]**

Wow

**Skyguy [20:02]**

Please tell me you didn’t stalk him

**Future President [20:03]**

Well…

**Snips [20:03]**

I’ll get mom prepped 

**Skyguy [20:04]**

Pads, seriously? 

**Future President [20:06]**

Ok well technically I didn’t stalk him just followed him to the music rooms. I didn’t get to see where he went after that ‘cause he disappeared. 

**Snips [20:06]**

What like ‘poof’ 

**Future President [20:07]**

Yeah! Poof! 

**Skyguy [20:07]**

I’m surrounded by idiots

**Skyguy [20:08]**

So is that it for mystery ‘drummer-boy’?

**Skyguy [20:08]**

Or is there more? 

**Future President [20:10]**

Oh no I’m trying again tomorrow

**Future President [20:12]**

And the next day and the next day 

**Captain [20:21]**

Wait who is Padmé stalking? 

**Future President [20:22]**

I'M NOT STALKING ANYONE 

**Snips [20:22]**

Hey Rex 

**Skyguy [20:23]**

Finally someone with a brain who isn’t me 

**Captain [20:23]**

Glad to know I’m appreciated General 

**Skyguy [20:24]**

Anytime Cap 

**Snips [20:25]**

Padmé’s stalking a possible candidate for our drummer 

**Snips [20:26]**

Apparently she saw him slip some sticks into his bag 

**Future President [20:26]**

And I saw him go into the music rooms after class 

**Skyguy [20:27]**

Stalkerrrr

**Captain [20:27]**

I mean if he’s a drummer we should try to recruit him

**Snips [20:28]**

You make it sound like the army

**Captain [20:29]**

Why do you think I call you Commander? 

**Snips [20:30]**

Good point 

**Future President [22:56]**

I’m not a stalker 

**Skyguy [23:32]**

No you’re just a very enthusiastic person 

**Skyguy [23:33]**

Who stalks people 

**\------------------------**

Obi-Wan knew he was being followed and his stalker was being as subtle as a bull in a china shop, trying and failing to keep out of his line of sight by stopping every time he looked behind him to act as if she was on the phone. He almost found it endearing, but he needed to practise, and this girl was slowing him down as he took yet another random turn to throw her off. 

He recognised her. She was in his Law lectures, often usually up the very front with her books open and eyes eagerly glued to the Professor in front of her as she fervently scribbled notes in her notebook. She didn’t look like the type to follow people home, but Obi-Wan had been taught not to judge a book by its cover. 

It took a while to lose her, and many detours later Obi-Wan managed to make it back to the music building in time for half an hours practise. However, he was stuck with one of the crummy rooms on the bottom floor because he was so late, where the sound from the rest of the building surrounded him on all sides and it smelt of body odour from the last occupant, as there were no windows. 

But, beggars can’t be choosers and Obi-Wan reluctantly sat on the stool behind the ancient drum kit, tugging his sticks from his bag and rolling his shoulders. There was one in almost every music room, although they were differing in standard. 

He reached over to his left where the auxiliary cable for the speakers lay and jammed it into his phone, twisting it this way and that to get some sound through the busted chord. He queued some songs quickly before filling the sounds with his rhythms, his phone lying where it was tossed on the table. 

He loved playing drums, and had learnt when he was a kid with an aggravated temper and loads of time on his hands. His Godfather had organised lessons from him after an incident that ended with an antique vase in pieces on the floor. 

He felt so in control whenever he practised and getting out his frustrations on something that wasn’t a punching bag, or his pillow satisfied him. It meant he was able to block out the world, which he wasn’t able to do often with how busy his schedule was. 

Obi-Wan’s forehead grew sweaty as he made his way through his playlist, and when the last song tapered out, the last reverberations of the bass echoing around the room, he spent a good ten minutes on his own, hammering out riffs, ostinatos and solos that came to his head on the fly. His arms ached slightly, and he could feel his ass going numb, but he didn’t care. 

He knew he was good; he just didn’t flaunt it outside the walls he sat in. 

No one knew he played. He was the studious kid who always came top of his class, aiming for Law in the most prestigious college in high school, the one who kept to himself. Drumming was his little getaway, where Obi-Wan Kenobi could be himself. As a kid, he always thought he’d become lifeless if his drums were taken away, that he’d have no meaning. 

And whilst he had gone for a Law degree instead of Music, he knew drumming would never be a side gig. It was something he wanted to do for the rest of his life, be it in an orchestra, or a band of his own. 

Someone began to bang on the door suddenly, and he realised he had to leave. The building was being locked up and Obi-Wan was being kicked out. Well, not literally but the security guard had a habit of getting cranky if he didn’t skedaddle, as illustrated by the hard slaps against the wood of the door the guard called knocking. 

He didn’t feel like bothering with the train, so he walked, enjoying the crisp autumn air as he drummed his fingers against his jeans. 

“Hi Mrs Thomas,” Obi-Wan called to his neighbour as he came through the entrance, bending down to hand her the mail she dropped and kindly smiling when she gripped it with her gnarled hands. 

“Oh, Obi-Wan! I haven’t seen you all week!” she cried, pulling him into a surprisingly strong hug. “Where’s that beautiful girl of yours, hm? You two not fighting I hope?” 

Obi-Wan’s stomach plummeted at the thought of Siri, but he plastered on a fake smile, shoving the feeling until it was in his feet. “No, we’re not fighting Mrs Thomas, but Siri had an internship, so she’ll be gone for a while,” he told her, and the old lady shook her head. 

“That girl is always so busy _. _ But don’t leave it so long next time. I’ll have a fresh cup of tea for you and we can catch up later, yeah?” she asked, and Obi-Wan nodded, smiling genuinely as he climbed the last flight of stairs of the apartment complex, wiggling his key to get the door to his apartment open. 

A plaintive mewl sounded by his feet, and Obi-Wan crouched down to run his fingers through Arfour’s silky fur. The calico cat purred loudly, rubbing his head along his owners legs, marking his scent once again on the human. 

Chuckling fondly, Obi-Wan made his way to the kitchen to feed him, watching as the cat almost face planted in excitement. Leaving the feline to eat in peace, Obi-Wan headed into his bedroom, leaving his bag by his desk and putting his phone on charge. 

He’d missed a call from Qui-Gon while he’d been practising, the notification staring at Obi-Wan from where his phone lay on his bedsheets. Exasperatedly, he covered his face with his hands and groaned, loudly, not having the energy or the patience to call him back. 

He didn’t spend long wallowing however, heaving himself up to sit at his desk, pulling out his large textbook to get started on the assignment he had received that afternoon. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. 21:46. He had a good hour and forty five minutes until he had to go to bed. Which he could spend getting a good amount of work done. 

He completely forgot about eating until he climbed into bed. But at that stage, he was too tired to get back up again, so fell asleep to the sound of his stomach grumbling at him. 

____ **______________**

A week later, and the fruits of Padmé’s labour finally presented themselves. Although Anakin and Ahsoka would have to apologise to this person she was stalking, apparently she’d discovered that he went to the practise rooms every second day, sometimes staying for more than two hours after his lectures. 

“So, how exactly do we find him?” Anakin asked as the four of them sat in their favourite coffee shop. “There’s at least thirty music rooms and as I recall, there’s no register at the front desk.” Anakin should know because he wandered in once to practise, stepped one foot into a room and walked back out of there. He complained to Ashoka that the acoustics had been shit but really, it was the smell of body odour permeating the whole building that had drove him off. 

Rex, still in his apron emblazoned with the shop’s log, nodded in agreement. “And how do you know this guy goes to practise regularly every second day? You’ve only been stalking him for a week,” he commented, putting on a very fake thinking face. 

Anakin smirked beside him as they watched Padmé’s face turn red. “I haven’t been stalking him! Just observing him,” she cried, cheeks burning in embarrassment. 

“Very closely,” Ahsoka said, raising her eyebrows as she took another slurp of her coffee through her straw. Padmé scowled at her and she raised her hands in surrender. “Just stating the facts.” 

“Okay, what if we just went to the music rooms tonight, after my lecture and see if we can find the guy. Then you’ll all shut up about me being a stalker,” Padmé compromised. 

“When does your lecture finish?” Anakin asked, pulling out his phone to see if his mom had texted him about dinner tonight. 

Apparently, she’d met someone while at work and wanted to introduce the two of them to each other. He hadn’t gotten any other details other than that, so Anakin didn’t know what to expect. That and he didn’t want to have to listen to her scolding him of the uses of a phone if he didn’t answer it. 

“About six?” Padmé replied. “So we could meet here for around quarter past and walk down together?” 

“I might sit out of this one. I’m locking up tonight, and you know how particular my boss is, and how long it takes,” Rex said with a sigh running his hand along his forehead exasperatedly. 

“I can take a recording,” Ashoka told him, grinning at him in excitement. “But if we can find him, I definitely think we should try to at least listen to the guy. Even if he won’t join us.” 

“Yeah. You’re right Snips,” Anakin replied, ruffling Ashoka’s hair. “But we’ll miss you big guy,” he told Rex, and got a friendly swipe for his troubles. 

So the plan was set, and the group separated for their next lecture, Anakin grabbing a coffee to go and meandering his way to the engineering building. 

Someone suddenly shoulder-checked him, and Anakin got a flash of red hair and a hurried apology thrown over their shoulder before they disappeared, and a shiver ran up his spine. He shuddered, pulling the hood of his jumper over his ears as he made his way through to the hall. 

True to form, Anakin was ten minutes late to the coffee shop and he could see Padmé’s glare and Ahsoka’s impatient tapping of her foot from a mile off. He smiled sheepishly to all three of them as Rex came from behind the counter.

“You had one job,” Padmé practically growled as Anakin scratched the back of his head. Her glare was downright menacing as they began their walk to the music rooms. 

“Can you blame me?” Anakin retorted. “I had to talk to my professor after class about our next project. It took longer than I expected.” 

“Nerd,” Ashoka scoffed under her breath and Anakin swooped her under his arm, ruffling her hair harshly until she yielded. 

“Wait, Rex I thought you said you couldn’t come,” Anakin said, pointing at Rex's apronless torso in confusion. 

“I got someone to cover for me,” Rex replied, pointing his thumb over to the poor person slumped against the counter. “Thought this would be too good to miss.” 

“Very true,” Anakin agreed, and they set off. 

Anakin and Ashoka, being the children they are, spent the walk to the music building sticking their tongues out at each other and swiping at one another’s heads, while Padmé and Rex sighed in exasperation. 

The music building was as pungent as Anakin remembered, and he could see Ashoka wrinkling her nose at the stench of it. Padmé, feeling confident, asked the security guard at the desk whether he’d see a young man with red hair come in. He shrugged, claiming that unless they didn’t sign in, he didn’t bother with who came in or out, and turned back to his solitaire. 

They then spent the next ten minutes searching the rooms for anyone playing drums. They heard one person absolutely murdering a kit but when they peeked inside, it turned out to be a girl with wildly coloured hair and her three friends messing around with the instrument. 

“How many fucking people play drums?!” Anakin groaned, sliding down the wall to stretch out his legs.

“Not that many doofus,” Ashoka said as she kicked his foot prompting him to get up as the other two completely ignored him, wandering down the corridor. 

“Fine, ignore my suffering,” Anakin muttered. Ashoka giggled at him. 

They’d made it to the final floor, so if their mystery drummer wasn’t here, then he obviously wasn’t in the building and they’d missed him. “And it’ll be your fault for being late,” Padmé grouched at Anakin who rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

At the second to last door, they heard the familiar sound of drumming. “Second times the charm,” Rex murmured as they gently eased the door open. 

What small bit Anakin could hear was great. But, his blue eyes were instantly drawn to muscled legs hugged by skinny jeans, a white top that clung to the person’s torso with sweat and bright red hair that stuck to their forehead with perspiration. 

With headphones over his ears, the guy didn’t hear them as Padmé squealed that it was the guy from her lectures. At this point, the door to the practise room was wide open and Anakin was unabashedly gawking at the guy on the other side of the room, watching his sleek muscles tense with every beat. 

He was really good, and Anakin could see himself jamming to whatever it was the guy was playing. He didn’t see Ashoka throwing him a knowing look from where she stood at his shoulder, and most certainly didn’t see Padmé and Rex’s accomplished smiles as the guy finished his set, almost jumping out of his skin when he finally spotted them. 

“Oh, uh, hello there,” he stuttered, taking off his headphones and leaving them to hang around his neck. “Can I help you?” Anakin traced his hands movements as they came up to brush back copper coloured hair, watching a bead of sweat trail down his neck. 

Padmé rolled her eyes at the other three’s dumbfounded and speechless expressions. She could practically see the cogs inside their heads turning slowly, processing the awe inspiring rhythms they just heard. She stepped forward. 

“I’m sorry. We just—we heard your playing down the corridor and thought we just had to come in and listen,” she said, negating to tell him she’d been his stalker for the week. “It was really good! I’ve never seen someone drum that smoothly.” 

The drummer blushed, hard, and Anakin could feel himself mentally cooing at the guy’s adorableness.  _ Stop it Anakin this is not appropriate,  _ he thought to himself. 

“Thanks,” he replied quietly, left hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. 

“I’m Padmé, by the way,” she said, stretching out her hand for a handshake, which the guy returned, wincing at the hard grip Padmé had. 

“Obi-Wan,” he replied, and Anakin blushed, eyes gleaming with wonder at the gorgeous name. It suited him. 

“You’re in my legal class, right? With Professor Koon?” Padmé asked, and Obi-Wan’s gorgeous blue-green eyes widened in realisation. 

“I was wondering where I’d recognised you! You always sit at the front,” he exclaimed, and Padmé nodded. 

“And you always come in late,” she chuckled, and Obi-Wan blushed again. 

_ God, _ Anakin thought,  _ he’s so damn cute.  _ He cleared his throat, gaining everyone’s attention. He almost blushed himself. 

“We were wondering whether you’d like to play with us? I mean, in our band,” he broached cautiously, and Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “It’s just, we’ve only recently lost our own drummer, and you’re so good we’d thought it’d be fun to see how it went.” 

“You play, um…” 

“Anakin,” he jumped in quickly.

Obi-Wan rolled the name in his mind, liking the way it sounded when he said it, far less stern than he did with his accent. “What do you play?” he asked, hiding the excitement he felt by jiggling his knee up and down. 

“Well, I’m a guitarist, Rex is a bassist and Ahsoka is also a guitarist. And as you already know, our drummer left unfortunately,” Anakin told him, furrowing his brows in irritation. 

“Only because he couldn’t deal with the really cool sets Anakin wanted to play,” Ashoka chimed in when she saw Obi-Wan’s suspicion. 

“So, you have a band,” he said, making it sound more like a question than the statement it was. 

“One without a drummer,” Rex added. 

Obi-Wan seemed unsure about it, bringing up his hand to rub against the stubble on his chin as he thought. Anakin could picture a full beard sitting in place of it. 

To be honest, Obi-Wan was unsure about it. He had never played in a band before. Hell, that was his first time in  _ years  _ to play in front of people. So it would be a challenge, if he took it on. And he was tempted, it sounded like it would be a lot of fun. 

“When do you practise?” he asked, and he watched as all four pairs of eyes lit up in happiness. “I’m not saying whether I will or not, I want to see whether I can play with you first before confirming anything.” 

“That’s fine,” Anakin said. “We don’t practise until the weekend, and it’s usually at mine or Ahsoka’s house as we’re the only ones with a house and a garage that can fit all of us.” 

Obi-Wan nodded. “Sounds good, if I can leave your number with one of you so I can get in touch?” he asked. 

The others snickered silently as Anakin practically lunged at the opportunity, almost dropping his phone in the process. Obi-Wan and Anakin smiled shyly at each other as they traded numbers, the other three nudging each other proudly. 

_____________

**Sexy-Drummer [7:30]**

What’s the address for the rehearsal on Saturday? 

**Sexy-Drummer [7:45]**

It’s Obi-Wan by the way 

**Anakin [7:46]**

Sorry! Yeah hi. 

**Anakin [7:46]**

We all kinda turn up at about 2? Depends on the day

**Sexy-Drummer [7:47]**

And do I need to bring a drum kit? 

**Anakin [7:47]**

No! My step-brother has an old one from when he wanted to learn

**Anakin [7:48]**

I’m sure we can pull it out

**Sexy-Drummer [7:48]**

Perfect. 


	2. Chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a slight warning, Siri Tachi is not a nice person in this story. Granted she's only here for this chapter, but anyway.

Obi-Wan cradled the cup of tea close to his chest, allowing his hands to warm up again from the biting cold. He didn’t want to add the milk yet, and he was sorely considering drinking it black like the satanic person he was at heart. But, Bant slid the jug over to him, noticing the look in his eyes. 

Obi-Wan practically pouted as he lost the small battle of whims the two of them held over the table, but grudgingly added the milk to his tea, stirring it with his teaspoon before taking a grateful sip. 

The coffee shop was bustling with customers, the din of conversation making it all the more cosy. There were a few regular chairs and tables, but most of it was filled with sofas and armchairs surrounding small coffee tables. 

The light brown walls and atmospheric music added to the general feel of the establishment meant that it was sold as Obi-Wan’s favourite the minute he had stepped in at first. 

“Why did you drag me to the coffee shop furthest from campus?” Obi-Wan asked Bant, placing the cup back down on the saucer.

“Oh shut up, you know this is your favourite shop,” she said scoffing at him as she took a sip of her own flat white. “And why would I need a reason to have a coffee with my best friend?” 

“Well, seeing as you practically dragged me from my warm apartment just for a chat, let’s say I’m a bit suspicious,” he retorted, raising his eyebrows at her. 

Bant suddenly seemed slightly sheepish, and dare Obi-Wan say it, nervous. He’d known Bant since elementary school and she’d never been nervous, not even when she had been caught sneaking out with Obi-Wan when they were ten. 

“What? What is it?” Obi-Wan asked warily, watching closely as she brushed away a strand of her bright orange hair shakily. 

“I-It’s nothing. Tell me about Anakin!” she diverted after a few moments, and Obi-Wan frowned. “Are you going on a date soon?” 

“We have one tonight actually. Now what’s got you all flustered?” Obi-Wan asked, backhanding the question at her. He could see her deflate, her shoulders slumping. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing, just a rumour I heard in class today,” she murmured glancing down at her lap, and Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed in concern. 

“Your professor isn’t throwing another internship to you? The last one was only last month!” he said incredulously, remembering how Bant would sometimes crash at his place during that internship because the hospital was closer to him, and she had been too tired to drive home. 

She shook her head, picking at her fingernails in worry. “No, it’s not that,” she murmured, keeping her gaze firmly on her lap, not daring to meet his eyes. 

Obi-Wan suddenly felt a buzzing against his thigh, and pulled his phone from his pocket, thinking it was most likely Anakin. 

It wasn’t. 

**S.T (D) [15:56]**

Babe where are you? 

**S.T (D) [15:57]**

Would’ve thought you’d be here to welcome your girlfriend home

Obi-Wan’s grip tightened on the device and his breath began to quicken as he stared at the phone screen. He could feel sweat dripping down his forehead as his brain denied it a million times. She couldn’t. She still had two months of the internship left. How was she back? And  _ why  _ was she going after him again? 

“You knew,” Obi-Wan murmured quietly, connecting the dots to the reason for Bant's mood. “You knew she was back early. And you weren’t going to tell me.” The feeling of utter betrayal trickled its way down his spine, and Obi-Wan felt like he was going to cry. 

He glanced up and saw Bant’s own eyes glistening with tears. She was shaking her head. “I wasn’t going to tell you,” she began and Obi-Wan bit his tongue to halt the cry of outrage that was wiggling to burst out, “only because I  _ was  _ going to drive her off. Say you’d gotten with someone else. I didn’t expect her to text you.” 

Obi-Wan frowned at his best friend. “Was anyone else in on this plan?” he asked, hoping she’d say no; he didn’t want anyone else knowing about the development of his and Siri’s relationship. 

Bant snorted though, rolling her eyes at her best friend’s naivety. “Who else do you think?” she asked him sarcastically, and his blue-green eyes widened in horror. “Garren and Reeft wouldn’t leave me alone until I told them what was going on.” 

Obi-Wan looked close to burying his head in his hands before looking up to her once again. “How long?” he asked, brow furrowing in concern, nose prickling with the onslaught of tears. 

“After the first few messages came through,” she replied, and this time he really did duck his head into his hands. Bant leant across the table, pulling them away from his face and cradling them in her own hands. She began to rub her thumbs across his palms as he sniffled, attempting to hold back the tears. 

“Hey,” she said quietly, gaining his attention again as he glanced up, eyes glistening. “I’ll get rid of her; I’ll say you don’t want to see her and to piss off, just say the word.” 

Obi-Wan chuckled wetly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “How do you know that’ll even work? You know how stubborn she can be.” 

“Then I’ll tell Mrs Thomas that she’s not allowed in your apartment, I’ll warn you whenever she’s around and you can dodge and weave around her for the rest of the year until graduation,” she said, and Obi-Wan spotted the determined look in her eyes. “I’m not letting you get hurt again.” 

Obi-Wan squeezed her hands in gratitude, and the two of them sat in silence, allowing the sounds of the coffee shop to swirl around them. He didn’t feel entirely confident this would work, but as the two of them parted ways to head to class, he clutched onto the back of her shirt, almost close to burying his head in her shoulder. 

“Hey,” she murmured into his ear, “we’ll get through this.” And the two of them separated to head to their next lectures. 

Obi-Wan had never cared how he looked on first dates. Granted he had only been on three, and only one of them had been successful. But now, as he stood in front of his wardrobe deciding what to put on, he discovered that he actually cared this time, flicking over his everyday clothing to the ones at the back of the wardrobe and considering them, scrutinising them carefully. 

There wasn’t anything too special, but Obi-Wan pulled out a nice pair of jeans, a shirt and a pair of brogues Qui-Gon had given him a year ago for his birthday. It wasn’t too outlandish and it didn’t hurt to make an attempt. Obi-Wan combed his fingers through his copper hair, considering the five o’clock shadow on his jaw before heading into the bathroom to shave it off. 

He grabbed his good jacket from the coat rack, taking one more second to take in his hair and check he had anything before leaving, locking his door behind him. He glanced at his watch on the way down the stairs, waving goodbye to Mrs Thomas who called out for him to not stay out too late and wandered outside. 

Anakin had said he’d pick him up and he’d been quite adamant about it. Obi-Wan was slightly early so he settled himself against the wall of his building to wait, crossing one leg over the other. It had turned colder again, the January air biting into Obi-Wan’s bones as he regretted not wearing thicker clothes. But, he couldn’t back away now. 

He felt nervous. He had butterflies in his stomach and had to continuously wipe his hands on his jeans to rid them of sweat. It had been technically Rex and Ashoka who had encouraged – more like forced – the two of them into having a date. 

Rex had said it was because the two of them were clearly eying each other during practise and were doing the cliché look-away thing. Ashoka had said it was because there was enough sexual tension between them to cut with a knife and serve on a piece of bread. Her words exactly. And that she was sick of the obvious pining going on during practise. 

However, neither of them were wrong. Obi-Wan’s eyes had been straying to Anakin’s ass in those skinny jeans which he knew the man wore to taunt him way too often. And their friendly banter had suddenly turned to bickering as the two of them bumped heads over songs. It hadn’t been a pretty picture. Ahsoka had described them as an old married couple. Obi-Wan denied that statement vehemently, but his cheeks had flamed bright red.

Glancing at his watch again, Obi-Wan cursed his punctuality for the fifth time in the same amount of minutes, his fingers tapping against his jeans in nervous energy. 

A car suddenly tooted at him, and Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of familiar blonde hair before Anakin hopped out of the driver's seat. Obi-Wan took a few seconds to admire his fluffy hair, long legs in  _ fucking skinny jeans  _ was this boy  _ trying  _ to torment him? And Anakin’s leather jacket before focussing his gaze on Anakin’s blue, blue eyes. 

“Hi!” Anakin greeted, smiling brightly. 

“Hey,” Obi-Wan said quietly, smiling back. He floundered for a few seconds, trying to find something to say before pointing to the vehicle behind him. “Nice car,” he commented, and Anakin almost seemed to smile in pride. 

“Thanks, fixed him up myself,” he replied, rocking on the balls of his feet. The car itself had a white body, thought the paint seemed to be becoming chipped in age. It couldn’t have been more than ten years old, and Obi-Wan could see the racing shape of the car; created for aerodynamic efficiency. He really liked the blue racing stripes too. 

“You race?” Obi-Wan asked, pointing to the stripes, intrigued and he suddenly got an overwhelming rush of adoration as Anakin’s eyes lit up with passion and underlying joy.

“Yeah! It’s something I do on the side. I don’t get paid for it though,” and Anakin almost sounded despondent at that, and Obi-Wan chuckled quietly. 

“Do I need to worry about the speed limit then?” he asked, and Anakin smiled cheekily. 

“No, not at all. You might wanna get in though, otherwise we’ll lose time,” he said, gesturing for Obi-Wan to get in the passenger seat before sliding in himself. Obi-Wan frowned at Anakin’s vagueness, glancing at the mischievous look on his face in trepidation, but brushed it away. 

He mentally prepared himself as Anakin put the key in the ignition. He’d probably tear out of the driveway and roar down the road towards the high street. After all, the guy is a racer. Obi-Wan’s hands turned to fists as Anakin turned the key in anticipation, nails digging into his palm as—

As Anakin calmly backed out of the driveway, placing his arm behind Obi-Wan’s seat to see behind himself properly. As Anakin eased into the speed limit, he checked his rear view mirror and carefully turned left at the fork at the top of Obi-Wan’s road. 

Obi-Wan’s fingers unclenched in surprise, and he sat up further in his seat, gazing out of the window. Anakin suddenly chuckled beside him and Obi-Wan turned to look at him. “Why so surprised?” Anakin asked, keeping his eyes on the road, even though he quickly glanced at Obi-Wan from time to time.

“I was honestly expecting you to go tearing out of the driveway and break the speed limit immediately,” he admitted, smiling as he gazed out of the window again. 

“Why would you think I’d do that?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan could almost hear a hint of incredulousness. 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Because you’re a racer, and you look like the person to practise every chance you get,” he answered, and he didn’t like the smile that crossed over Anakin’s face then. 

“Ouch, way to judge a book by its cover. Well, just you wait until we get to the motorway,” he said almost menacingly, and Obi-Wan was starting to regret even getting in the car. 

Obi-Wan was surprised they hadn’t been stopped by a police car. Anakin was true to his word and the dashboard inched quickly towards the speed limit and Obi-Wan’s hands gripped the edge of his seat as the scenery flashed by. 

“Don’t you like driving Obi-Wan?” Anakin suddenly asked, distracting him from his life flashing before his eyes as his brain drifted to the thought of crashing at this speed. 

“I don’t mind driving,” he began, head whipping around to watch Anakin take over another car. “But what you’re doing is suicide.” Anakin laughed loudly, but eased his foot off the gas, conscious that he wasn’t the only one in the vehicle and Obi-Wan was starting to look a bit pale. 

“We’re nearly there,” he said, pointing to a sign that Obi-Wan couldn’t read as they passed it, turning onto a small lane way. The sun was beginning to set, splitting the sky into multiple colours. Obi-Wan craned his neck to see all of them, not paying attention to where Anakin was taking them until he pulled the car to a stop. 

They’d parked just in front of a picnic table, set up close to the edge of a drop, although it was a few feet from the cliff’s edge. The headlights from Anakin’s car illuminated the dinner that was spread on the wooden tabletop, food covered to prevent it from getting cold. 

Obi-Wan got out from the car, gazing at the table in awe. The cliff was angled so the sunset was in full view, the first few stars peeking out from the cloud cover. The food was simple, laid out on plastic plates, and yet Obi-Wan could see the effort Anakin put into making it. 

He was almost taken aback, cheeks burning as he blushed. No one had ever tried this hard for a date. Siri was one of those people who let the other person organise it and she’d sit back and let it fan out. 

“So, you want to eat?” Anakin asked uncertainly, glancing at Obi-Wan’s pink face in concern. But, he nodded enthusiastically, almost sprinting over to sit at the table. His stomach rumbled loudly as he took a seat, gazing at the spread. 

They spent a good two hours there, watching the sun dip below the horizon and disappear from sight. It began to get cold, and Obi-Wan shivered slightly, which had Anakin leaping from his seat to pull out a thick blanket from the boot of the car, ever the gentleman. 

He slid next to Obi-Wan, wrapping the blanket around both their shoulders, arms and legs touching. They watched as the stars came into full view and packed away their things when it became too cold to bear. 

The drive home was quiet, but the two of them glanced at each other as Anakin drove them, a bit more sedately than he had getting there. Obi-Wan felt pleasantly warm, and comfortable, and he smiled softly at Anakin as the two of them got out of the car together. 

“Do you want to come in? I can make us some tea,” Obi-Wan ventured after a few seconds of silence, trying to find any way to make Anakin stay longer. The blonde looked relieved to be asked and followed Obi-Wan as he opened the front door. 

“Oh! Obi-Wan!” Mrs Thomas called from where she stood at her front door, fluffy slippers on her feet to keep from the cold. “Your lovely girlfriend is here, I just let her in.” 

Obi-Wan’s heart froze, and he could bet his face had gone deathly pale. Bant said she’d tell his landlady about Siri, to not let her in. Obviously, she hadn’t had the chance yet and dread settled in his stomach like a stone. “T-Thank you Mrs Thomas,” he replied, fumbling behind him to grasp Anakin’s hand for support. 

The poor man felt so confused, and betrayed. If Obi-Wan had a girlfriend already, why did he let Anakin go to all that trouble for a date just to be shut down at the end of what he thought was a great night? And why did Obi-Wan look like he’d seen a ghost? And why was he grasping for Anakin’s hand and dragging him up the stairs to his apartment, like something was on their tails? 

Sure enough, when Obi-Wan threw open the door, Siri Tachi stood in the middle of the sitting room, taking it all in. Of course, Obi-Wan had gotten rid of her things when he had dumped her and put his own spin on the décor since she had been gone, so it was a bit different to the last time she had been there a few months ago. 

The dark purple carpet had been replaced by floorboards; the love seat gone; replaced by a pair of comfy armchairs. The pictures of them were gone from the mantelpiece; thrown in the bin the day Siri began to question Obi-Wan’s dedication to their relationship. 

It felt as if she was a stranger in a strange house that wasn’t hers anymore. And Obi-Wan glared at her in fury, not with the love he used to. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked her darkly, but Siri’s face lit up in a grin that looked almost forced. 

“Obi how is that a greeting for your girlfriend who’s been gone for eight months?” she asked, almost pouting. “And why have you changed the decoration? I don’t really like this hard wood.” She tapped the floor with the toe of her boot, and Obi-Wan’s hands clenched into fist. 

“I changed it because it’s my flat, I can do what I want with it,” he growled, frowning at her now. Siri almost flinched, her blue eyes darkening in anger. 

“No, it has to be a team decision Obi, that means you  _ and  _ me,” she said, her voice turning brittle and strict, as if she were talking to a stubborn child. 

“I believe you don’t have that authority, Siri seeing as you refused to understand me, and tried to throw yourself at me, multiple times I might add,” Obi-Wan told her, standing up a bit straighter. 

“I did no such thing,” she spluttered, looking offended. 

“Don’t lie! You won’t leave me alone,” Obi-Wan almost shouted, and Anakin took a step forward to comfort him, but Obi-Wan took a few steps towards Siri. 

“I won’t leave you alone because I’m your girlfriend!” she shouted, getting angry. 

“NO YOU’RE NOT!” Obi-Wan shouted. “I’m gay! When are you going to accept that?!” 

“Y-You can’t be gay, that’s not possible,” she stuttered, running out of excuses, and anger deflating very quickly. “You still love me,” she said desperately, almost sadly. Her eyes had taken on a wide and slightly crazed look as her hand stretched towards Obi-Wan’s.

“Really?” Obi-Wan asked, almost sarcastically, stepping back. “Watch this,” he said, turning around and striding to Anakin. He placed his hand on the back of his head and drew his lips down to his. 

Anakin realised how much shorter Obi-Wan was, and how soft his lips were. It was a bit messy at first, their teeth clicking together loudly, but the longer it went, the better the kiss became. He didn’t pay attention to the sound of Siri storming out, or the crying that could be heard as she ran down the stairs. He put all his attention into running his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair, in shoving his tongue down his throat. 

The two of them were panting when they came up for air, and Obi-Wan took the time to gaze into Anakin’s bright blue eyes. He suddenly realised he had no regrets about that kiss, nor what he had just done. He felt free. 

The two of them brought their heads together, still standing next to the door. “I feel like there should be an explanation,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan nodded. 

“Of course, I don’t expect it now seeing as that shitshow just happened,” Anakin said before Obi-Wan could say anything else, chuckling as Obi-Wan smiled, biting his lip as a wave of happiness overcame him. 

“C-Can we do that again? When I’m not running on adrenaline from telling my ex to get lost?” Obi-Wan asked and he swore Anakin’s smile was brighter than the sun. 

“You mean when you’re telling her to ‘fuck off’?” Anakin asked slyly, pecking Obi-Wan’s lips again. 

Obi-Wan smiled, the feeling of euphoria dancing in his veins, and Anakin dragged them over to the sofa, the two of them flopping onto it. Obi-Wan took advantage of the height difference between them and shuffled up to lay his head against Anakin’s chest, threading their legs together. And that’s where they stayed, at least until Anakin’s legs fell asleep and he had to leave. 

_____________

It was at least a week later when Anakin got a text from Ahsoka. He could tell that she was excited as she spammed the group chat in all caps, causing his phone to almost jump off the table with its vibrations. He couldn’t look at it until after his lecture though, and his professor had levelled him with a hard stare at the interruption.

**Snips [2:33]**

GUESS WHO IS THE BEST BANDMATE OF ALL TIME?! 

**Captain [2:34]**

Threepio? 

**Snips [2:35]**

No 

**Snips [2:35]**

But I suppose he could get an honorary title 

**Snips [2:35]**

Seeing as he’s the best doggo of all time 

**Snips [2:36]**

I'M THE BEST BANDMATE 

**Snips [2:36]**

BECAUSE 

**Snips [2:36]**

I 

**Snips [2:36]**

GOT 

**Snips [2:36]**

US 

**Snips [2:36]**

A GIG! 

**Snips [2:36]**

FOR TONIGHT! 

**Captain [2:38]**

Nice going commander

**Snips [2:39]**

Thanks Rex

**Snips [3:03]**

I’ve a feeling someone’s ignoring this amazing news

**Snips [3:03]**

Because I’m not getting the praise I deserve 

Anakin chuckled at the messages, firing off a congratulatory reply before pulling out his headphones for the walk to the bus station. He was suddenly interrupted however, by a call from Bant. 

“Hey Banter,” Anakin said cheerily, and he could hear the faint sounds of clinking cups on her end and the loud chattering of people before she answered. 

“Anakin, hi. I haven’t got you at a bad time have I?” she asked, ever the considerate one. Anakin sat down on a bench to his left, tucking his headphones back into his pocket. 

“No, you haven’t. I was just on my way home from class. Why what’s up?” he asked, waiting as she seemed to shush someone on the other end. 

“Uh, it’s actually Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s spine straightened in worry immediately. “He’s with me in the café on the west side of campus. Do you know it?” she asked and continued when Anakin confirmed he did, that it was Obi-Wan’s favourite. “He’s been here since twelve working on his assignments due this week, and Garen, Reeft and I have tried to get him to go home.” 

“And let me guess. He won’t listen,” Anakin finished for her, letting out a long sigh of disappointment, seeing as this was the third time this had happened in as many months. 

“If you can just take him home, that’d be great,” Bant told him, and Anakin could hear the worry in her voice plainly. 

“Don’t worry, I’m on my way. I’ll get Ashoka and Rex to give me a hand. Have you seen Padmé by any chance?” he asked. 

“Yeah, she was here about an hour ago but had the sensibility to take her work  _ home _ ,  _ Obi-Wan _ ,” she replied, and Anakin could picture her poking her best friend in his side to get him attention. 

“I’ll be there in ten minutes, tops,” he told her, and she thanked him before hanging up. Anakin pulled open his messenger app and opened the general group chat. 

**Skyguy [3:33]**

Can you two meet me at the café on the west side of campus?

**Skyguy [3:33]**

We need to drag a reluctant General of ours home

**Snips [3:35]**

Rodger Rodger 

**Captain [3:36]**

10-4

Anakin smiled at the screen before tucking it back into his pocket and turning around to head in the other direction towards the coffee shop. He remembered Obi-Wan telling him he had a mountain of work to get done, but for the guy to ignore all three of his best friends? Bant had been wise to call Anakin in. 

The coffee shop was almost empty when Anakin got there as it was class time. The gang had pushed two tables together to make room for all of them, and Anakin could see the back of Obi-Wan’s head bent over a pile of books. Bant waved him over almost desperately. 

Garen and Reeft had their heads bent over Reeft’s phone having a heated discussion as Garen waved his hands about the place. Anakin could spot Ahsoka and Rex by the cash register, ordering more drinks he supposed, and he hurried over to the table. 

“Finally. I thought you’d never get here,” Bant exclaimed, pulling Anakin in for a hug once she stood from her seat. Although they’d only known each other for two months, Anakin considered Bant’s hugs the best and he held onto her for a few extra seconds before pulling away. 

“I got here as fast as I could,” he grumbled, plopping himself down in the chair next to Obi-Wan’s. 

“Well you obviously didn’t walk fast enough,” Bant shot back, and Anakin placed his hand against his chest in mock hurt, ducking the swipe she sent his way. 

Ahsoka and Rex made their way over, handing Anakin his mocha, and Bant her green tea. However, when Obi-Wan swiped for a cup, both of them evaded, and he glared at them in annoyance almost childishly.

“People who are sleep deprived don’t get coffee,” Bant told him reproachfully when he turned his glare to her. She wagged her finger in front of his face and Obi-Wan looked very tempted to bite it. 

He seemed to consider it too much effort and turned back to his work. “’m not sleep deprived,” he mumbled, and Bant snorted at him.

Anakin leaned his head down to get a better look at him. Obi-Wan had dark circles under his eyes that looked almost purple, and he continuously reached up to rub the sleep from them. There was a slight tremor to his fingers as he wrote, and his shoulders were drawn up almost to his ears. Anakin could just imagine the migraine he must be experiencing. 

Slowly and quietly, Anakin shuffled his chair closer to Obi-Wan’s, gaining the attention of Bant, Ashoka and Rex who all glanced at him curiously. 

Anakin rubbed his hands together quickly to warm them before placing them on Obi-Wan’s shoulders and beginning to massage them. His pencil stopped scratching against the paper, and Obi-Wan breathed a sigh in content.

Anakin applied a bit more pressure, noticing the tension within the muscles in Obi-Wan’s shoulders. He could see Ahsoka giggling out of the corner of his eye and could practically feel Obi-Wan’s approval. 

Slowly and gradually, Anakin inched his fingers up to the base of Obi-Wan’s skull, almost kneading the area with his knuckles, and Obi-Wan made an almost sensual moan, his body melting like butter under Anakin’s fingers. 

He shuffled a bit and dragged Obi-Wan so that the other man was practically leaning against Anakin’s side. Anakin bent down to whisper in Obi-Wan’s ear. “Do you want some help home?” he asked, noticing Obi-Wan’s eyes were at half mast in exhaustion. He didn’t answer, just nodded and Anakin motioned his head to the others. 

It took a bit to get Obi-Wan home seeing as the other man was dragging his heels in exhaustion, and Anakin had to bridal carry him up the stairs to his apartment seeing as he had become a practical monkey and clung onto Anakin tightly. He had to open the door himself however and grumbled as he turned the key in the lock. 

Anakin led him over to the sofa, dumping both their bags by the front door to be out of the way and laying him down gently. He placed the throw over Obi-Wan, making sure it was tucked up to his chin and made to leave. But a soft grip on the sleeve of his hoodie stopped him, and he glanced down to see Obi-Wan slightly more aware and looking at him imploringly. 

“Stay?” he asked, and Anakin smiled, sitting down on the edge of the sofa and starting up the massaging again without prompt. He could feel Obi-Wan relax beneath his fingers again, his eyes drifting closed. Anakin toed off his shoes, lifting the other man’s legs to sit on the sofa properly. He settled them again once he was in a comfortable position. 

“I never did give you an explanation, did I?” Obi-Wan asked, voice quiet and weighed down with exhaustion. Anakin’s gaze snapped to Obi-Wan’s own, his eyelids half mast as he tried to keep them open. He didn’t imagine Obi-Wan voluntarily doing this, Anakin always thought he’d have to tease it out of him bit by bit. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he told him softly, but Obi-Wan shook his head, sitting up almost stubbornly. He yawned widely – and Anakin covered his own mouth as he did too - and rubbed the sleep from his eyes harshly. 

Anakin stayed mostly quiet as Obi-Wan began to explain what happened. How he had met Siri in his first year at the University, bumping into each other in a library. How the first few months went and how she never paid for any of the dates, she would always cling to him, and text him multiple times during the day, even if he didn’t answer. 

And how, the first time he tried to cut it off she just denied it and continued as they had been. Anakin gradually got more and more upset, fingers clenching Obi-Wan’s legs in both support and anger. 

Obi-Wan went on to explain how he discovered himself, how it was a gradual thing that spanned over most of his life. And how, in a frat party Bant dragged him to, he had been fervently kissed by a boy and had returned it. 

At Anakin’s slightly betrayed look, Obi-Wan told him that the boy had left already, moved to a completely different state and left him behind. He explained how he had then tackled Siri when she tried to come for him again. How he had had Bant, Garen and Reeft at his back and had explained (read: shouted) at his ex that he was gay. 

He breezed over the months afterwards, the days of her messaging him in a bid to get him back, to ‘convince’ him he wasn’t gay. And how miserable it made him. 

“And then came you,” Obi-Wan said, a blush decorating his cheeks as he fiddled with his fingers. “And you gave me the courage to finally tell her to fuck off.” He chuckled almost morosely at himself, and Anakin’s fingers suddenly intertwined with his own. 

“I promise you,” he began, and Obi-Wan was suddenly drowning in those blue, blue eyes of his. “I will never do that to you, I will never hurt you like that.”

And the conviction, the pure adoration and admiration in Anakin’s expression and voice sent the tears that had been gradually building in Obi-Wan’s eyes spill over, and he launched himself at Anakin, wrapping his arms around his waist. Obi-Wan was ashamed to admit that he sobbed, getting snot all over Anakin’s shirt, but the other man simply combed his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair comfortingly, saying nothing as he calmed him down. 

“By the way,” Anakin began, murmuring quietly, “Ahsoka got us a gig.” 

“When for?” Obi-Wan asked from where his face was pressed against Anakin’s chest, sniffling. 

“Tonight I think,” Anakin told him and Obi-Wan shot up so fast the top of his head cracked against Anakin’s chin. Anakin cried out in shock as he involuntarily bit his tongue but Obi-Wan wasn’t paying attention as he gazed in shock at him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?! I could’ve started getting ready ages ago!” Obi-Wan cried, running towards his bedroom and completely ignoring Anakin’s plight. 

“Because you were falling asleep in your chair! And besides, how long does it take to get ready? Twenty minutes?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan’s head suddenly popped around the corner from his bedroom, an aghast expression on his face. 

“You don’t know how long it takes me to get this hair tamed,” he commented sassily, running his hand over his ginger locks. Anakin groaned in annoyance at his boyfriend, keeling over to lay flat on the sofa, willing Obi-Wan to go faster so they wouldn’t be late. 

Obi-Wan’s phone buzzed from where it lay on the coffee table, screen lit up. “Hey,” Anakin called to him, sitting up to get a look at who wanted Obi-Wan’s attention. “Someone called Qui-Gon Jerkface is calling you.” 

“Ignore it!” came Obi-Wan’s reply. “It’s just my godfather, probably wondering when I’ll next visit.” And Anakin mentally frowned at the fact that Obi-Wan was refusing to talk to family but shrugged it off. 

______________

“Nervous, General?” Rex asked Anakin from where he stood tuning his bass. The lighting backstage wasn’t the best, and the place smelt strongly of booze and piss, but a gig was a gig and Rex wasn’t going to complain. Although he had a strong sense Ahsoka might start raging to the bartender, and Obi-Wan looked two seconds away from writing a strongly worded letter to management about their hygiene protocols. 

“Me?” Anakin asked, gaze darting up from where it had been bent over his music, running over the chords with his fingers. “I’m not nervous, and I never will be nervous. Hell, I don’t even think I’ve been nervous.” 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at Anakin’s cocky attitude, twirling his sticks between his fingers. “Oh really?” he asked, venturing into Anakin’s personal space and having to crane his neck, and no Anakin did not think that cute at all. He wasn’t blushing, the lighting is horrible. “I seem to remember someone throwing up in Rex’s bass case last week when he got too nervous for a gig.” 

Anakin didn’t like the sly look Obi-Wan was giving. “Name begins with A ends with N and has three syllables,” Obi-Wan commented, and Rex had to drag Anakin out from the corner he had begun to pout in as Ahsoka cackled off to the side. 

“You can’t talk Snips!” Anakin cried, pointing at her. “You actually bailed from a gig because of nerves!” 

“I was sick dumbass!” Ahsoka called, flipping Anakin the bird who childishly reciprocated by sticking his tongue out at her. The bickering was interrupted when one of the stage managers beckoned them on stage as the act before them finished. 

Across the room, sitting by the bar, a man considered his drink. His grey eyes tracked the pathway of a drop of condensation as it made its way down the glass to drip off onto the table. He was never one for alcohol, but he felt like he’d needed it tonight, watching as mediocre acts came and went on stage. 

Why Mace set him up with this was beyond him. It wasn’t like he  _ hadn’t  _ been doing anything productive in the office. And yet, his boss sent him out to one of the local bars in town which had a weekly gig night where any and all walks of life tried their hand at entertaining a crowd of drunks who would start jumping up and down at any tune that came on. 

Qui-Gon Jinn took another gulp of his drink, wincing as the alcohol burned his throat on the way down and watching as the girl who had spent the last ten minutes singing baleful ballads finally hopped off her stool and walked off. He heaved a large sigh and pulled out his phone from his pocket. Half an hour to go and he could get out of this hell hole. 

However, what caught his ears next wasn’t singing that sounded like alley cats, or amateur guitar playing. It was actually  _ good _ . Something that could have potential and he quickly glanced to the stage to take a peek over the heads of the crowd. 

It was a band, three men and one woman, all jamming out to Dancing Shoes by Arctic Monkeys. The singer wasn’t half bad, the rasp in his voice adding depth to what would’ve been slightly bland. He alternated between artfully strumming out chords to singing into the mike. 

The other three watched him like hawks, keeping an eye on his timing. The bassist and other guitarist wandered around the stage, coming together at times to play off of each other. The drummer was great, keeping impeccable time and the band as a whole was able to keep the audience’s attention on them for their whole set. 

But the red hair of the drummer looked familiar, and when Qui-Gon craned his neck a bit more to get a better look he recognised him. “Obi-Wan,” he murmured, gazing at him in awe. 

When the band finished their set, sweaty and panting with exertion by infinitely happy, Qui-Gon approached, a kind smile plastered on his face even though he spotted Obi-Wan’s shocked – and slightly irritated – expression directed at him. 

The group turned silent as Qui-Gon held out his hand for the lead guitarist to shake. “Qui-Gon Jinn from Temple records,” he began, and the bassist and the other guitarists' eyes bugged out of their heads, but Qui-Gon noticed the flicker of realisation in the lead singer's eyes. “I must say you four impressed me up there. Not many people can hold an audience’s attention like that.” 

He could see the shock, surprise and joy flitting across their expressions, and yet Obi-Wan didn’t seem very pleased he was here. “I’ve been sent out of the office tonight to look for new acts for the label. As you know, we’ve just lost one of our top performers due to her pregnancy,” he told them, and he inwardly winced at the image of Tahl walking out of the conference room with sad eyes that his brain dredged up again. 

“So, wait, you're scouting?” the girl asked, furrowing her brows as her fingers messed with her hair. Qui-Gon could see the remnant blue dye in her platinum blonde locks and noted the fact down that she might have to have it redone if they join the label. 

“Essentially, yes. And you guys made an impression,” he replied, reaching into his pocket for his wallet and gently easing out one of his cards. “I can arrange a meeting between you guys and the CEOs of the company. All you need to do is have a demo and show up.” 

“You’re serious?” the bassist asked, hesitancy laced through his tone. 

Qui-Gon levelled the four of them with his most stern of gazes, and he could feel the excitement between them. “Dead serious,” he said, and their smiles could’ve split their faces. Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan’s eye and tilted his head to the left to talk, but not before telling the others; “Give me a call when you’re ready, and I’ll organise the meeting.” 

Obi-Wan did not look pleased, and Qui-Gon could see the impatient tapping of his foot as the two of them wandered over to a quiet corner of the bar. He rounded on him when they were out of ear-shot of the group. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you would be here?” he hissed, anger almost palpable in the atmosphere around them but Qui-Gon didn’t step down. 

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” Qui-Gon shot back, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about his godson. They hardly ever talked now that he was in his final year, even though the kid had spent a good part of his life living with Qui-Gon. 

“I’ve been busy,” Obi-Wan murmured, petulantly and Qui-Gon almost scoffed at him. 

“I called almost every _ day  _ Obi-Wan,” he told him, a hurt look over taking his grey eyes. “You don’t realise how worried I’ve been. I was tempted to come over to see if you were even still alive.” 

And Obi-Wan did scoff then, rolling his eyes dramatically. “You should’ve thought about not giving me my apartment then if you were so worried about keeping me under control,” he snapped and Qui-Gon’s heart panged in sadness. 

He had thought it was a good twenty first birthday present to give the boy his own space, where he had his own place to relax and study. Whereas when he’d been handed the keys, Obi-Wan felt as if he was being kicked out; that he’d become too much of a nuisance to be cared for. 

“I apologise. That wasn’t the best move to make but that doesn’t mean you can ignore—” 

“Is everything okay over here?” Qui-Gon hadn’t even noticed the main guitarist coming over, too enwrapped in the argument to be aware of their surroundings. 

Obi-Wan relaxed against the arm placed around his shoulders, leaning gently into Anakin’s side as he glared at Qui-Gon. “Fine,” he replied. “Qui-Gon was just leaving,” he said, and tugged Anakin back toward the others, glaring at Qui-Gon over his shoulder as they went. 


	3. Chapter three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the Implied Sexual content tag comes in. It's brief and not that detailed (at least I don't think it is) and it starts at "He tasted sweet...". Also, just to note this is an acceleration of the album writing process. It could take up to a year to write one and for the purposes of narration it takes the gang about three to four months as they already had some songs written. Without further ado, enjoy!

To most, Yoda and Mace made an odd pair. It was as if they were two puzzle pieces that didn’t slot together smoothly. And yet, if you jiggled and twisted them, it worked. And it had to, really. They were the co-CEOs of Temple Records, if they didn’t work together the whole ship would sink. 

But to Qui-Gon, they worked perfectly, and he revered them as mentors and great friends, despite their differences. That didn’t mean that they agreed on everything. 

“Really, Qui?” Mace asked from where he sat behind his desk, one eyebrow raised in question. “We’re trying to find an alternative for…Tahl,” and at that Qui-Gon winced, “but a rock band isn’t what we’re looking for.” 

Now, Mace Windu was one of those performers you’d know immediately. Starting in a gospel choir in his own small town, he caught the attention of an upshot saxophonist looking for a partner to play with. Of course, it didn’t work out for long but the media coverage they gained enabled Mace to be signed under a contract of his own. 

He then released multiple albums and gained a major following with his powerful voice that moved men and women alike to tears. And the three Grammy’s and single Academy Award for Best Original Song which stood on the shelf were solid proof of that. 

“Mace, trust me, these kids are phenomenal. Their chemistry on stage is enough to get the audience on their feet,” Qui-Gon implored. “And I’m sure they’d be a great asset to the Label.”

“Speak, you do as if they’re already about to be interviewed,” Yoda piped up from Mace’s left side. He leaned forward to prop his chin on his steepled fingers. “Organised a meeting already, you have?” he asked, and Qui-Gon glanced towards the door while Mace groaned. 

Yoda had been called the Louis Armstrong of the twenty-first century many times. And he’s humble enough to deny it every time. Although he isn’t as decorated as Mace, he’s as impressive in the amount of albums he’s sold. His soothing tones and glorious trombone playing makes him a unique artist, one that no one else could hope to imitate. 

That didn’t explain his strange way of forming sentences, although there had been many theories. 

“They’re just outside,” Qui-Gon told them and Mace groaned even louder. Qui-Gon guessed the kids outside could hear it. “If you give them a chance and listen to them, I promise you, you won’t regret it,” he pushed, looking hopefully at the two of them. 

Yoda shook his head. “Looking, we are, for a new artist, not a new band.” And Qui-Gon almost tugged his hair out in upset. 

“Okay, look at it this way. Who’s our top competitor for artists?” he asked them. 

“Unlimited Power Records,” Mace answered, slightly confused with where Qui-Gon was going with this. 

“Correct, and I’ve heard on good authority that that snake of a CEO Palpatine just signed a new rock band into the label. They call themselves ‘Darth’ or something to that degree,” he said, and he could see the interest gleaming in Mace’s eyes at what he was proposing. “So, why not fight fire with fire?” 

“But what will signing these kids achieve apart from a new leash on the rivalry between us and Ultimate Power?” Mace asked him, leaning forwards to place his elbows atop his desk, leaning his chin against his steepled fingers. 

“You’ll be giving these guys a chance. If you let them go, you’ll never get them back, they’ll slip through your fingers like sand,” Qui-Gon said, knowing first-hand what it meant to an upstart artist to even get an _interview_ with a top label. “Just give them a chance.” 

The two other men glanced at each other, almost having a whole conversation just with their eyes until, finally, Yoda nodded, and Mace sighed. “Bring them in,” he said and Qui-Gon’s grin almost split his face as he jogged over to the door. 

He almost yanked it off its hinges in excitement as he beckoned the Team inside. They all stared in amazement at the two music legends sitting behind two desks, and Obi-Wan had to elbow Ashoka in the side gently to get her to close her mouth which had dropped open in shock. 

“It’s an honour to meet you, Mr Windu, Mr Yoda,” Obi-Wan began almost bowing his head slightly in respect. 

“We really appreciate it,” Anakin chimed in, and the other two nodded their agreement, too stunned to speak. 

“A pleasure, it is,” Yoda replied, smiling kindly at the three as Mace scrutinised all four of them.

Qui-Gon had been right about the age, they were practically _kids_. The smallest looked to be no more than nineteen at least, the oldest about twenty seven. But, they would appeal to the younger age market if that was the case. They didn’t look too scruffy, and most had their own sense of style when it came to what they wore, if the wild hairdos two of them sported were anything to go by. 

He cleared his throat and gestured for them to sit down, and they eagerly complied. “I believe you have a demo for us?” he asked them, and the one with blonde hair almost jumped out of his seat to hand it to him. 

“Don’t you want our names first?” the girl asked, furrowing her brows at him. 

“Listen first. If you’re good enough then we’ll do introductions,” Mace answered curtly, sliding the USB into his computer. Anakin threw an incredulous look Obi-Wan’s way, and the drummer shrugged his shoulders in exasperation as their music began to make its way out of the computer’s tinny speakers. 

They chose a song they wrote together. Although they had been slightly hungover from a gig the night before when they recorded, it had turned out better than they expected. Although the melody itself was slightly upbeat, the lyrics spoke for themselves, and gave depth to it. Rex, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan and Anakin all watched in anticipation as the two CEOs listened intently.

Yoda had closed his eyes at one point and had his head cocked towards the computer. He looked almost pensive as he listened, but the four could see his fingers tapping along to the rhythm on the arm of his chair. Mace held his chin within his fingers, his brow furrowed as he considered the music. His face betrayed nothing, and a silence hung in the office as it faded out. 

Suddenly he pointed his finger at Rex and said, “Name, go,” in a very commanding voice and his bandmates could see how startled he was in his wide eyes. 

“Rex, sir,” he said. 

“Last name?” Mace asked almost condescendingly, and Obi-Wan grabbed hold of Anakin’s forearm, as if knowing his boyfriend was about to leap out of his seat in anger. 

“U-Uh, it’s Australian sir, and slightly difficult to pronounce,” he told him, and Mace passed over a pad and pen, watching as Rex scribbled it down and quickly handed it back. 

“Nguyen?” Mace attempted and Rex’s eyes widened in surprise, slowly nodding in answer. The man’s steely gaze went to Ahsoka next, then Obi-Wan, then Anakin. No one spotted the slight uptick in his eyebrows when Obi-Wan introduced himself, but Qui-Gon caught it from where he stood behind the band’s chairs. Mace knew of Obi-Wan, as Qui-Gon had talked about him voraciously. . 

“Do you have any other songs apart from this?” Mace asked, and Obi-Wan pulled out a tatty notebook. Sheets were falling from the covers and a few fluttered to the floor. The CEO could make out scribbled lyrics before they were shoved into Anakin’s pocket. 

He handed some over to Yoda for consideration and leafed through some himself. There wasn’t any music, just lyrics, but Mace could almost hear the melodies meant to link with each song. He glanced to Yoda who imperceptibly motioned his head to the room next door. “If you’ll excuse us,” Mace said politely and rose from his chair to follow his colleague, leaving the band to sit and worry. 

“Have doubts you do,” Yoda began, raising one bushy eyebrow as Mace sighed, glancing back down at the sheets in his hands. 

“They’re good, there’s no denying that. But, Yoda, they’re _kids_ ,” Mace told him, frowning at the sheets he held in slight frustration. 

“A kid, you once were. Accepted into a label at seventeen, were you not? Hm?” Yoda, and Mace bowed his head in embarrassment. 

“But can we actually take the risk of accepting them? So far we’ve only signed solo artists. Ones much older than these kids. And ones with a more refined sound than theirs,” Mace reasoned. 

“Better to look at the benefits, than the risks,” Yoda replied, and Mace remembered his friend saying the exact same thing in a completely different setting and smiled to himself. 

They both entered the office again, and the four members snapped to face forward in their seats, glancing at the CEOs as they once again took their seats. Mace placed the sheets of lyrics on the desk in front of him and steepled his fingers, leaning his elbows against the wood. 

“Talked we have, about your future contracts,” Yoda told them and the grins that spread were almost too bright to look at. Anakin felt as if he should whoop with joy but grabbed hold of Obi-Wan’s hand instead. 

“Consider this a probation period,” Mace told them, staring hard at each of them. “We want one album by the end of the year, a single within that and at least one music video. If it’s a flop,” here, he glared hard at all of them, “you’re out.” 

The kids nodded eagerly, and Yoda pulled out four manila coloured folders from the drawer next to him, handing one to each of them. The pages within were read extensively and carefully, the office suddenly filled with silence again until each contract was signed and placed back in the hands of their new employers. 

“Welcome to Temple Records, 501st,” Mace said, smiling proudly at the four of them.

The next day, the newspapers were all over the news, some front pages plastered with pictures of the band at one of their gigs and the headlines blaring; 

**TEMPLE RECORDS SIGNED NEW BAND. IS THIS A WAY TO DISTRACT FROM FORMER SINGER SCANDAL?**

However, not two days later, a new headline overshadowed it:

**ULTIMATE POWER RECORDS TO RELEASE DARTH’S DEBUT ALBUM WITHIN NEXT THREE MONTHS!**

***

Ahsoka banged her forehead against the coffee table with a satisfying thud, sending bits of paper to the floor. She groaned in irritation as she dropped her pencil, letting her arms dangle and turned to glare at Anakin when he laughed at her. He and Obi-Wan sat on the loveseat across from her, Obi-Wan’s head in Anakin’s lap as the blonde carded his fingers in Obi-Wan’s copper coloured hair. 

“Shall we make that our ostinato for number three?” Obi-Wan asked sleepily, throwing his black notebook to the floor where it joined the amassed rubbish that littered the carpet. 

“Yeah? What should we call it? ‘Exasperation of the nation’?” Anakin pondered, causing the sleep deprived drummer to laugh deliriously. 

“More like ‘Annoyance of a grumpy guitarist who’s going to whack the lead singer if he doesn’t get his act together’,” Ahsoka growled, chucking a scrunched piece of paper at his head. 

Anakin dodged it was a squawk, tipping Obi-Wan over slightly so the man was dangling over the edge of the sofa. He yelped and grabbed hold of his boyfriend's jeans to prevent his face being squished by the floor, his feet scrambling for purchase. Ahsoka cackled from where she sat as the two righted themselves. 

It was a testament to how tired they were that they weren’t taking this seriously. Anakin grasped his hand for his cup of coffee, pouting when he came up to find it empty. It joined the multiple others in the corner.

The three of them had been at it since six in the morning when Ahsoka had arrived to drag the two of them from their warm bed to the coffee table where they now sat, surrounded by sheet music and lyrics and still no further into their album than they had been yesterday. 

Anakin groaned; “My brain is fried, someone might as well use it to cook eggs.” Obi-Wan chuckled, swatting at Anakin’s head from where he lay. 

“Hey, where’s Rex?” Ahsoka suddenly asked. “Shouldn’t he be here suffering alongside us?” 

“He should be,” Obi-Wan said, pulling himself up from Anakin’s lap. 

“Maybe he’s disappeared,” Ahsoka said with mock fright, gasping dramatically.

“Or he’s dead,” Anakin said blandly, picking up his own pencil once again. 

“Should I call people to let them know?” Ahsoka asked sarcastically and Anakin nodded solemnly.

“I’ll start on the eulogy,” he replied, sniffing pathetically.

“I’ll organise the coffin,” Obi-Wan sighed, but was interrupted by the door opening and Rex entering, phone pressed to his ear in mid conversation. 

“Yes, I’ll let her know,” he said as he shut the door. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Thanks again. Bye.” He hung up on whoever it was he was speaking to and cast his gaze to the three expectant faces staring at him. “What?” he asked, blushing under the stares. 

“You were meant to be here by seven to start writing today,” Obi-Wan commented matter of fact. “It is now 9.30 and you didn’t call or text at all.” 

Rex laughed sheepishly, running his hand over his head nervously. “Sorry about that. I had to call my Dad and then got side-tracked by the rest of the fam. It turned into me literally helping Boba out with his maths homework over the phone.” He shook his head incredulously and took his seat beside Ahsoka. “So, how goes it?” 

“What were you side-tracked from,” Ahsoka asked abruptly, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, I got us a month at Dad’s cottage. He’s taking Boba to see the rest of the family, so we have it to ourselves for the time they’re gone. As long as you guys don’t mind feeding some horses now and then,” Rex explained, smiling brightly. “I thought it’d be a good place for us to relax and be able to write properly; get this album finished, you know?” 

“Where is it?” Anakin asked, curiosity peaked as he gently eased Obi-Wan up from his lap.

“Dad says there’s a town twenty minutes from the house. But Cody and I just say it’s in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere when someone asks,” Rex explained. “Literally, the nearest neighbour is a good ten minutes away.” 

“Perfect, so we won’t disturb anyone,” Anakin said, rubbing his hands together in excitement. 

“Yeah, no you two are going in a separate room as I appreciate my sleep and I don’t want to be kept up with your shenanigans,” Ahsoka said, pointing a finger at the two of them. 

“Who said anything about shenanigans?” Obi-Wan asked, slyly raising an eyebrow at Anakin who wiggled his own as the two inched towards the other, aiming for a kiss. Ahsoka’s good aim put them off as two pieces of paper smacked each of them in the head, hard. 

“How much progress has been made?” Rex asked. “Or can I assume this is what you’ve been doing all morning?” 

“Well, we have the bridge passage for ‘Don’t Let Me Fall’ covered, but the chorus for ‘Evolution’ isn’t what we were hoping it would be, and we thought you could put your spin on it,” Obi-Wan said, passing over his black notebook and a piece of manuscript over to him, settling back against Anakin’s side as Rex flicked through the pages and they finally settled down to work. 

Rex was right in saying the cottage was in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere. Grass stretched for miles in any direction and the summer sun beat against their shoulders as they moved their luggage into the house quickly, eager to get into the pool in the backyard. 

Summer had just started, and the weight and stress of finals were behind them. Padmé joined in their fun, tagging along for the relaxation and to be their guinea pig when it came to songs. She was happy to help, quite pleased to leave her books at home. 

“Guys you do realise we have to do work as well,” Obi-Wan called as Ahsoka and Anakin jumped into the pool for what felt like the twentieth time. They both came up for air quickly, sending a wave of water at Obi-Wan who yelped and danced away from the splash zone. 

“Awe come on Obi. Don’t be such a stickler,” Anakin called to him from where Obi-Wan stood scowling under the awning. Padmé giggled from where she lay on her deck chair, sun hat covering her face from the worst of the sun. 

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t get our hard work soaked, love,” Obi-Wan said as he carefully placed the notebook on the table next to Padmé. “I’d hate to have to watch you write it all out again.” He raised a singular eyebrow slyly at the blonde, who childishly stuck out his tongue. 

“Come on Skyguy,” Ahsoka said, tugging on Anakin’s arm to lead him away. “Obi-Wan has a stick so far up his ass I doubt he’d know the definition of ‘fun’,” she snarked, and Obi-Wan’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. 

“Oh really?” he muttered slyly, barely loud enough for Padmé to hear as he backed up from the edge of the pool. He took a running leap and crashed into the water, sending a wave up and over Anakin and Ahsoka’s heads. He came up laughing and spluttered as the other two retaliated. 

Rex sighed from where he stood in the kitchen, watching out the window as he prepared some food. 

***

“Have either of you seen Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked Rex and Ahsoka. The two of them were in an intense writing session, and only glanced up to shake their heads at him before turning back to their pages. Obi-Wan sighed as he went to find Padmé. 

She was enthralled with the book on her lap when Obi-Wan finally found her and jumped when he snapped his fingers in front of her nose for her attention. “Oh, yeah he’s waiting for you in the woods out back. You know in the clearing we found yesterday,” she told him, and Obi-Wan rushed to grab his jumper from his room, making sure to shut the back door behind him. 

The stars were just starting to peak out behind the clouds, and the wind was non-existent as Obi-Wan walked. The woods smelt of pine and rain, as if a shower had just occurred. He held his phone out in front of him, flashlight trained to the ground to ensure he didn’t trip. He debated calling for Anakin but didn’t want to interrupt the almost ethereal silence. 

He came upon the clearing some minutes later and discovered Anakin had laid out a picnic blanket and a sizable spread. The man himself was sitting and waiting for him, a beer bottle already in hand. “I feel like we have a thing for picnics,” he explained when Obi-Wan came into earshot. 

“And I’m guessing it’s _not_ because our first date was a picnic?” Obi-Wan asked sarcastically, sitting down on the blanket carefully. He wiggled in place, feeling a stick poking at his ass and when he finally got comfortable, Anakin handed over another beer from the cool bag he had brought. 

“Did you plan this?” Obi-Wan asked as Anakin pulled out cheese, crackers, grapes and other goodies from the bag next. Plates and cutlery also made an appearance. 

“I just thought it’d be nice to get out for a bit. Seeing as we’ve been working so hard all week,” he replied, blushing slightly as his hand came up to scratch the back of his head. “It’s not too cringey is it?” 

Obi-Wan shook his head, smiling lovingly at him as he ate a grape, the sweetness washing over his tongue. “It’s absolutely perfect,” he said when he’d finished his mouthful, pecking Anakin on the lips lovingly. 

Anakin leaned forward, chasing Obi-Wan’s lips and capturing them in another kiss, deeper this time. He swiped at Obi-Wan’s bottom lip eagerly, and Obi-Wan allowed him entry, mouth falling open easily for Anakin’s tongue. 

The two wrestled for dominance, pulling back for a few seconds to catch their breath and then coming together again. However, Obi-Wan pushed Anakin back slightly, hand on his chest to ease him onto his haunches again. 

“What?” Anakin asked, worried he’d done something wrong. But Obi-Wan laughed softly at him. 

“I want to eat before we do this,” he explained. “I don’t want my stomach suddenly rumbling when we’re so into it.” And his hand darted out for more grapes and some cheese, easily finishing off a bundle of the fruit. 

He tasted sweet when Anakin went at it again, and it just added to the pooling heat in his gut as he ravaged Obi-Wan’s neck with his tongue and teeth, leaving marks behind. The two of them didn’t have ordained positions, they just went with what the other was feeling on that particular day. 

However, given the chance, Anakin loved pulling Obi-Wan apart at the seams. Seeing that copper hair being mussed by _his_ fingers, that pretty mouth fall open and mouth _his_ name, those gorgeous blue-green eyes at half-mast as Anakin tugged and pulled stretched until the two of them were nothing but a pile of gasping limbs and sweaty bodies. 

As they lay on the blanket, neither knew where one began and the other ended. It felt slightly uncomfortable though, with the two of them being so sticky, but Anakin pulled his partner over, chest-to-chest as Obi-Wan hummed sleepily, an utter look of bliss making his lips uptick in a beautiful smile, one only Anakin was allowed to see. 

And under the stars, with just the two of them, Anakin murmured three words with such weight that Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open in surprise, almost tearing up at the sight of the adoration and love within Anakin’s gaze. 

“I love you too,” he whispered, gazing at Anakin, tracing each dip and rise in his face, the slant of his nose, the scar splitting his eyebrow and realising; he was truly in love. 

“I think we heard foxes mating last night,” Ahsoka commented when they got back the next morning, and Anakin aimed a nut at her head from his bowl of granola as Obi-Wan blushed hard. 

“Were we that loud?” he asked Anakin quietly, slightly embarrassed, and Anakin smiled at him. 

“Nah, she’s just jealous that she can’t get any game herself,” he said loudly, and Ahsoka squawked, tossing her teaspoon at his head in retaliation as he cackled. 

***

“What if we wrote a ballad?” Ahsoka suddenly asked, mid-week two of their writing vacation. She was sprawled out on the carpet next to the fireplace, almost cat-like as she spread herself further. “We could add it in on the end as a goodbye note.” 

“What, like a depressing song?” Anakin asked from where he lay with his feet on the sofa and back on the floor, head facing the ceiling. “Do you _want_ to make people cry?” he asked sarcastically. 

“I just think after all the really good songs,” and at that she bowed her head towards Rex and Obi-Wan, ignoring Anakin and getting a cushion thrown at her for her troubles, “it’d be nice to finish the album on a nice slow note.” 

“I thought we were going to do a big finale,” Anakin said, pouting. “I personally think it’s a bad idea. You’re edging into depressing music with that, and when it’s done right, it sounds great, but done badly sounds absolutely horrific.” 

“Doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try,” Rex piped up from the other side of the room, fingers tapping against the screen of his iPad. 

“ _Thank you_ Rex,” Ahsoka called to him, grinning mischievously. 

“What’s that saying Yoda’s always blathering about?” Obi-Wan suddenly asked, coming in from the kitchen with a cup of tea and taking his spot on the sofa next to Anakin’s feet. “Do or do not, there is no try?” 

“Ha!” Anakin cried, holding up his hand to join it with Obi-Wan’s triumphantly. “There. So we shouldn’t write one. Babe, do you know how much I love you right now?” And Ahsoka groaned about ‘lovesick idiots’ from her spot as Obi-Wan leaned down to kiss Anakin’s knuckles. 

“I’m not shooting down the idea that you shouldn’t try, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan told her, and she perked up slightly. “Just that you should be careful with where you’re putting your feet. We’re a rock band, we play rock songs, and we’d be going into dangerous territory with a ballad. We wouldn’t even know where to start.” 

“Alright,” Ahsoka relented, pouting. Anakin chuckled from where he lay. 

“I don’t see you chiming in with any ideas for songs,” Obi-Wan scolded him lightly. “We’re still three short, you know.” 

“Hey! I wrote ‘Renegade’ all by myself,” Anakin cried incredulously. 

“Yeah, with my help!” Rex shouted back, chucking his pen at the vocalist, which dissolved into childish bickering until Padmé came in shrieking at them to shut up. 

***

“Anakin! Come on we’re gonna leave you behind if you don’t get down here in the next five minutes,” Padmé called up the stairs before carrying her suitcase out to the car. 

Obi-Wan came through from the back garden, carrying a squirming Ahsoka over his shoulder. “We’ve had plenty of time to swim and we can’t have you getting the car seat wet,” he scolded her, placing her on her own two feet. She pouted, crossing her arms like a petulant child and Obi-Wan chuckled. 

“But you got to go in one last time,” she whined, almost on the verge of stomping her foot. 

“Yes, but that was this morning when I had a decent amount of time to get dry and washed. You have two minutes until we leave,” he explained as Padmé came rushing back in through the front door.

“Has Anakin come down yet?” she asked, running her fingers through her ponytail. 

“Not that I know of,” Obi-Wan replied, and Ahsoka wandered over to the bottom of the staircase. 

“Skyguy! Come on we’re leaving you behind unless you hoof it,” she shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth to make it louder. Obi-Wan gave her a strange look from where he stood at her side and Ahsoka glanced over. “What? That’s a thing you Brits say, right?” 

“I have never heard anyone use that phrase before, nor do I want to hear it again,” Obi-Wan told her, and she childishly stuck her tongue out at him. 

The thundering of boots on the stairs announced Anakin’s arrival, and he jumped the last three steps to get down faster. He brandished a piece of manuscript paper under Obi-Wan’s nose. “Look! What do you think?” he asked, almost vibrating on the spot as Obi-Wan took the piece of paper from him. 

He tapped his fingers against his leg to get a sense of the beat, mouthing the lyrics along to the rhythm he was creating in his head. “I think we’ve just written an album,” he told them once he’d read it over, and Ahsoka and Anakin crowed in joy, as Padmé gathered Rex up in a hug. 

“So let’s get home and record this bad boy,” Obi-Wan cried, picking up his backpack from the floor and marching out the door. 

“Please don’t ever say that again,” Ahsoka groaned from behind him. 

“As long as you don’t say ‘hoof it’ ever again.”

***

The four band members sat nervously in front of Mace and Yoda’s desks, Qui-Gon a few steps behind them leaning against the wall. They waited with bated breath as each of the CEOs leafed through their work, Mace handing music over to Yoda and vice versa. This went on for twenty minutes. 

Anakin and Obi-Wan clutched each other’s hands as they watched the two men scrutinised their music. 

“Hm,” Yoda intoned as he placed the pile of manuscript and loose paper onto his desk. “Good, your work is. A foundation for your act, you have created,” he told them. If their grins were any wider their faces would split and the tension in the air lifted suddenly. 

“However, these songs need to be recorded and edited. There’s no point of having music without the sound,” Mace told them, flicking through a black leather bound diary to his right. 

“Crucial, this time is,” Yoda said, giving each of them a hard stare. “Much time will be spent here. Notified, your lecturers have been. Yes?” 

The four of them glanced at each other in confusion. “Were we meant to tell them about this, Mr Yoda – sir?” Anakin asked, confusion pulling his eyebrows down in a frown. 

“You were meant to let them know you would be unable to attend classes, as this album would be taking up most of your time. Please tell me you have? I would rather not have to deal with another irate professor,” Mace asked them, and the annoyance in his voice was almost palpable.

“I emailed each of their professors once the contract was signed. They have free reign to work on the album as long as they return to their studies once it is finished,” Qui-Gon piped in. “I also organised for them to be exempt from exams, so they’d only need to finish the assignments to pass.” Ahsoka fist pumped the air as the other three grinned cheekily at each other, glad they didn’t have a bigger workload than they would. 

“Qui-Gon have I ever mentioned what a life saver you are?” Mace asked him. 

“No I don’t believe you have.” 

“Off topic, we are. Booth 2187 is available. Begin to record, you will,” Yoda said, cutting off the conversation swiftly.

“You all have your instruments, correct?” Mace asked, and three out of four members nodded. “There’s a drum kit down there.”

“Check in on you, we may during the week,” Yoda told them, and the band went away with that foreboding thought. 

Recording booth 2187 was…well it wasn’t big. 

“I’d call it dinky,” Obi-Wan said, smiling sweetly at the four walls they’d be trapped in for the next week or two. The drumkit was set up at the back wall, just below a heavy duty microphone. There were five other mics set up, three for the guitarists and two for the left and right side of the room. 

Qui-Gon stepped into the studio, placing his bag on the floor and taking a seat in front of the extensive recording technology. Ahsoka stood just behind his shoulder, staring in awe at the rows upon rows of buttons. Rex, Obi-Wan and Anakin wandered around the booth, gently touching the microphones in fascination. It might’ve been small, but it wasn’t half bad. 

“Alright, let’s get going shall we?” Qui-Gon’s voice asked over the system, scaring the three boys out of their skin as they turned to see Ahsoka cackling. They couldn’t hear it as Qui-Gon had taken his finger off the button, but they could tell it was loud. 

“Hang on. The bass needs to be heavier, almost like a heartbeat,” Anakin called, putting up a hand to stop them again for what felt like the twentieth song. 

“I’m trying, but that’s as heavy as it goes,” Obi-Wan told him, the vocalist getting on his nerves just slightly. He sat alone in the booth while the others stood on the other side of the glass. His headphones sat upon his head, and he tugged one off to hear through the speakers better. 

“That is something we can edit later,” Qui-Gon called out before things got too heated. “Why don’t we try it again from the bridge?” And Obi-Wan flashed a thumbs up, sliding his headphones back on gently. 

“How loud do you want this solo Skyguy?” Ahsoka asked, her guitar slung over her shoulder as she stepped into the booth. 

“As loud as you can get it, Snips. Try to overpower my singing,” he told her, and they could all see the little smirk creeping up her lips.

“That won’t be too hard,” she called, and Anakin spluttered in indignation. 

Obi-Wan slung his arms over Anakin’s shoulders from behind as they listened to Ahsoka blast her guitar, playing louder than they’d ever heard before. He loved watching her fingers dash and dance over the frets, sliding up and down to create cool effects. He would find himself captivated in the same way with Anakin whenever he played. 

“How was that?” Ahsoka asked, placing her headphones around her neck when she was finished. 

“My eardrums are blown!” Rex shouted from where he lay on the sofa at the back of the studio, legs crossed as he scrolled on his phone. Ahsoka whooped in joy. 

“How do you want this to start, Captain?” Anakin asked, fiddling with a hair tie he kept for when he was working on R2. He’d had to bring it to the recording session on the basis that he’d gotten sweaty just playing one song, the AC was so bad. 

“I was thinking I’d start us off, and then we’d add in the rest one at a time?” he replied, plugging his bass into the amplifier with ease. 

“It is your song Rex. Don’t ask us about what to do,” Obi-Wan said comfortingly, and the bass guitarist nodded. They could see his hands shaking slightly from where they sat. His eyes hardened in determination, however as he stood up to the mic, flashing a thumbs up before Anakin began recording him.

The riff was simple, yet toe tapping, and Ahsoka’s recorded ostinato joined him a few seconds later, then Obi-Wan and then Anakin’s dulcet tones adding context to the music. 

  
  


The four band members sat, hands joined and gripped hard in nervousness. Music filled the studio booth, surrounding them until the walls were fit to burst with sound. _Their_ music. Their blood sweat and tears which went into every note, every lyric, every beat of the drum. 

They sat as they watched Qui-Gon listen to each one, his back turned to them as the album was played, one composition after the other. Ahsoka could see the corner of the notebook he had on his lap, and wasn't sure whether he was actually taking notes; Qui-Gon’s shoulder was in the way. 

The final notes of the last song echoed, bouncing off the walls like a ball, and the four of them glanced at each other in worry. Qui-Gon swivelled in the chair to face them again. He held his pen lightly in his right hand, stroking his beard with his other hand. 

He didn’t say anything for a moment, until he closed his notebook over, placing his pen down in his lap and leaning back. The Obi-Wan furrowed his brows in confusion, watching their Manager’s mouth split in a wide grin. 

“I have no notes,” he told them, shrugging nonchalantly at them. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Ahsoka asked incredulously. 

“I do not kid, Ahsoka. I think it’s as perfect as you can get it for a first try. And I doubt Yoda and Mace would disagree,” Qui-Gon explained, placing his notebook into his bookbag. 

There was no describing the joy the four of them felt. Ashoka began jumping up and down on the sofa, Rex crowed in delight, tossing spare pages into the air, and Anakin and Obi-Wan were too wrapped up in each other’s lips and embrace to notice. The other two barrelled into them joyously, pulling them into a group hug. 

“We made a fucking album!” Ahsoka shrieked, causing the other three boys to laugh uproariously wincing at the sound, Anakin ruffling her hair hard. 

“This is just the beginning,” Qui-Gon told them. “You have a long road ahead of you,” he said and the four of them nodded determinedly. 


	4. Chapter four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I reiterate this is an accelerated version of events so what happens in this chapter is about a month or so after they've recorded the album. Enjoy!

Someone’s phone was vibrating. It was either Anakin’s or his own, Obi-Wan surmised as he turned over in bed. His arm blindly flailed to turn it off, clipping his partner on the nose and waking him up. Obi-Wan thumbed the alarm off and snuggled into his boyfriend’s chest.

“What’s the alarm for?” Anakin asked sleepily, yawning widely. He didn’t want to move yet, and was considering declaring it too early, even if it was only nine o’clock in the morning. 

“Qui-Gon wanted us at the lot by ten if we were going to make a start on the shoot,” Obi-Wan explained from where his head was tucked under Anakin’s chin. “He really wants the video out by this week. Although how we’re going to do that, I have no idea.” 

He heaved himself out from under the covers, running his hands over his face and stretching his back. Anakin groaned from behind him, burrowing further under the covers. “No,” Obi-Wan said sternly. “We can’t sleep in; we’ll be throttled if we don’t get there on time.” 

“Why don’t they just start without us?” he grumbled in reply, and he could almost sense Obi-Wan’s eyes rolling. 

“Because sweetheart, do you want your vision for this music video to be overwritten by a controlling director?” Obi-Wan queried, and he watched Anakin poke his head out from under the duvet and shake it. “So then we get up.” 

It usually took Anakin a good hour, and three cups of coffee, to wake up properly. Yet here he was, twenty minutes after having arisen from sleep sitting at the breakfast bar in their dinky kitchen watching his love make him a cup of coffee. 

“I’ll make you one for the car ride, alright?” Obi-Wan told him, pouring hot water into his teacup before handing over the fresh caffeinated drink to Anakin. Who proceeded to slurp greedily. “Please stop,” Obi-Wan said, looking at him with endearing annoyance. Anakin stuck out his tongue childishly. 

The journey there was quick and when they entered the shooting lot they were hustled to hair and makeup. Rex and Ahsoka were already in their chairs, a team of two stylists fluttering above them like anxious birds. 

Ahsoka glared at the one trying to get to her hair, jerking her head away at every attempt the poor girl made to tame the bush. “Anakin!” she called, moving over again. “Please tell them to leave my hair alone. It took a good twelve hours to get it this messy.” 

“Snips, that’s a rotten case of bedhead,” Anakin said, shocked it was able to get that bad. “Do you really want to look like that in our first ever music video?” 

“But Barriss helped me with it though,” Ahsoka whined almost pouting. “I don’t want her hard work to go to waste.” 

At that, Anakin raised both eyebrows, almost disappearing into his hairline. He spluttered for a few seconds before Obi-Wan cut in, gracefully sitting down in his make up chair and settling his gaze on Ahsoka with a reproachful stare. 

“Ahsoka. You’re about to be filmed representing not only the band, but yourself and the Label. Do you really want this look to be the first one you’re ever filmed in?” he asked her, closing his eyes as his own stylist got to work on his foundation. 

“Fine,” Ahsoka grumbled, slumping back into her hair with her arms crossed. She sat still as the stylist finally began to tame her hair, pulling the hairbrush through it harshly and plaiting it into two French braids, one lying on each of her shoulders when they’d finished. You could still see the blue streaks woven throughout the hairstyle and Ashoka thanked the stylist when they were done. 

Rex hadn’t needed much done, although his two makeup artists wouldn’t stop gushing about his, apparently, gorgeous and clear perfection. He was as red as his guitar when they moved on to get dressed. 

Obi-Wan’s hair had been blown dry to add volume, his ginger colouring turning copper in the lights of the set, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off Anakin’s golden curls, the small bit of eyeliner making his blue eyes almost seem like sapphires. 

“You look really good,” he whispered to him as the two of them came out of wardrobe, suitably dressed. 

“So do you,” Anakin replied, winking and smirking at Obi-Wan. 

The band was approached by a scrawny looking guy with wire glasses. He seemed demure enough and yet he seemed to start commanding them the second his mouth opened. 

“Woah, woah, woah. I’m the leader of this band. I know how this video will go. I practically wrote the thing,” Anakin called over his incessant blathering. “This whole song is about chasing your depression with the one you love. So, I want both Obi-Wan and I in a darkened set, we’ll be fighting off Rex and Ahsoka.” 

“Alright! Always wanted to torture you,” Ahsoka said jokingly, but you could see the mischief in both of their eyes as she and Rex jogged off to grab the masks being procured by the costume store down the street. 

“If you have a problem with my vision, then leave,” Anakin almost growled when the director continued to gape at him like a fish underwater, and the poor man scurried off, apologising profusely before he did.

Anakin turned around to see Obi-Wan with one hand over his mouth, the other on his waist. Anakin cocked his head sideways slightly. “What?” 

“You taking control is so hot,” Obi-Wan whispered, and Anakin smirked again, winding his arm around Obi-Wan and pulling him away to grab props of their own. Obi-Wan was quickly handed a short sword, effectively blunted to not cause any harm and Anakin was given a baseball bat. 

The interconnected route of alleyways the label had somehow procured for them was their set. It was simple yet effective, and perfect for their video. The sun hit the walls just right to create the perfect shadows for the ‘demons’ to hide in. 

And Ahsoka and Rex, along with a bit of help from some extras, made a sight to behold. Dressed in black to melt into the shadows, their graphic masks contrasted harshly with the backdrop. Obi-Wan found himself inching away from them slightly in fear. 

They got started on filming, and at points the four of them found their acting so terrible it was laughable. The director had to berate them for ruining the shot with their aborted giggles. They didn’t seem to care, however. They were having a great time. 

They didn’t finish filming until the sun had sunk heavily beneath the horizon, and Obi-Wan was desperate to get the thick make-up off of him. 

The masks and props were packed away, and the four of them handed back the outfits a bit reluctantly. Anakin had liked being able to wear tartan for once. And he could see Obi-Wan eyeing the leather boots he was handing back with longing. 

“Can we have one day at home tomorrow?” Anakin groaned when they stepped through the door. The apartment was a bit of a tip, but neither of them had been home long enough to clean up. “We’ve been going at it for weeks now.” 

“That’s how an album is made, love,” Obi-Wan replied, pecking him on the cheek as he skirted past to the kitchen. Anakin could hear him bustling around, putting the kettle on for what he assumed was tea. 

Anakin flopped onto the sofa face first, breathing in the calming smell of the cushion beneath him. “But don’t we deserve a break?” he asked. “I mean, if Yoda and Mace want us in tip top shape for a tour, they’d better let us have a week – no a month to rest after this.” 

He felt the sofa dip slightly as Obi-Wan sat down, pulling Anakin’s feet up and over his own legs. “I think Mace and Yoda want this album out as fast as possible. There have been rumours that Darth are almost finished their first album as well.” 

Anakin groaned, loudly. “Why are we  _ always  _ compared to that group of slimeballs? Just because we ‘debuted’ on the same day? They think they’re on par with us?” 

“You never know. They just might well be,” Obi-Wan replied, taking a sip of tea. “But I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind if we at least took the morning tomorrow to sleep in.” 

“Could we?” Anakin asked, still face down on the sofa. He was beginning to feel very tired, almost as if he would sleep right there. He felt Obi-Wan’s hands begin to massage his feet, and Anakin sunk his nose into the cushion even further, heaving a sigh of relief. 

  
  


They didn’t get the morning, unfortunately. Obi-Wan was rudely awoken by a frantic call from Mace, telling the two of them to get to the office immediately. Although, immediately for the two of them was an hour and a half later. Obi-Wan could  _ see  _ the anger rolling off of the CEO. 

“We had to get breakfast,” Anakin justified, holding up a bag of croissants which were handed out and eaten quickly. 

Mace practically shoved his iPad in front of their noses, the device open on a gossip magazine. There was a full page photo of three men; one with a rather ugly snarl decorating his lips, one with dyed black and red hair and the other with blonde highlights. The last two looked vaguely similar. 

“The newest sensation from Ultimate Power Records, ‘Darth’ released their jaw-dropping single late last night,” Mace began to read, casting a concerned eye on all of them. “It comes after the rumour of a new album from the band. With Temple Records also teasing an album for their newest addition ‘The 501 st ’, could this be the newest battle of the bands?” 

“Why are they pitting us against each other?” Ashoka asked once Mace was finished reading. The CEO settled the pad on his desk and leaned back in his chair. 

“Temple and Ultimate Power Records have been, let’s say, rivals since they were established,” Mace began. “We seemed to have the same genre of artists, and Sheev Palpatine had a way of organising his acts’ releases in parallel to ours so it was difficult for our music to be as successful as it could.” 

“Hm, irritating it was, in the beginning,” Yoda chimed in. “However, solved it we did. Essential, it was, to plan ahead. Able, we were to release albums early.” 

“Which meant we had a better chance at sales,” Qui-Gon piped up. “It also meant the interest was there for both of our acts because of the drama that went on between them.” 

“This just means we need to get that music video out tonight, if possible,” Mace said, leaning forward to mess about on his iPad. “We received the finished version this morning. It’s been to the editors and the effects and your vocals have been added so it should be ready.” 

“Wait, you’re serious? So fast!?” all four asked at the same time, and Qui-Gon flinched slightly in surprise. Mace glanced at the band in shock and Yoda chuckled quietly. 

“Indeed,” he hummed, smiling kindly at the four of them. 

They spent the next few hours sitting around one of the conference rooms, hovering over the computer that sat at the end of the glass table. It wasn’t an ideal set up, but it was one they acquired in a pinch. The music video was processing, and the progress bar was slowly inching towards one hundred percent. 

“Ahsoka, that’s not very helpful,” Rex commented as the girl flopped against his shoulder, huffing at the ceiling in boredom. She whined loudly when he tried to push her off, and the bassist left her where she was, resigned to his fate as a cushion. 

Obi-Wan sat on the floor, back against the wall and a lap full of Anakin, carding his fingers through his blonde curls, scratching his scalp and kneading it with his fingertips. Anakin’s mouth was slack in sleep, breathing heavily through his nose. 

Obi-Wan nudged Anakin up, his legs having fallen asleep. Anakin immediately brought his hands to Obi-Wan’s shoulders once he sat up, massaging the tension and countless knots out from his muscles. Obi-Wan’s head fell back in contentment, and Anakin got a nice side-view of the five o’clock shadow growing on Obi-Wan’s chin. 

“It’s up,” Qui-Gon called from where he was sitting in front of the computer. His phone was tossed to the side, screen still lit with the ongoing game of scrabble, forgotten as the first few views and comments streamed in. 

Their song blared through the computer’s speakers, tinny and weak as they watched people comment, the views inching up one by one, then skyrocketing as an hour past. 

“I love this one,” Ahsoka said, pointing at the screen. “‘Yas I am  _ living  _ for the shadow slaying husbands’. Awe, you two are married? Congrats!” Anakin shoved her slightly, laughing as she pouted. 

“‘ The music vid is a bit whack, but I live for the music. Whoever wrote the bass part is a god’,” Rex intoned, blushing hard and sputtering. 

“‘I want Obi-Wan to throttle me with his biceps’,” Obi-Wan read, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “I don’t think that’s possible, but I will take that as a compliment.” Anakin laughed at his confusion. 

“They all seem to really like it,” Ahsoka said, grinning widely. 

“Although a few  _ are  _ complaining about the slightly less-than-average visual effects,” Rex pointed out, scrolling down through the comments. 

“Well, that’s not really our fault so they can piss off,” Ahsoka replied, leaning back in her chair with a stretch. 

There were many more comments, too many to go through. They weren’t all good however, but Qui-Gon skimmed past those quickly. It felt  _ good  _ knowing their music was being appreciated and loved. They felt excited to show the world the rest of the album. 

Anakin’s phone began to buzz from his pocket, and he excused himself to a corner of the conference room, watching the others crowd around the computer eagerly. “Hello?” he answered. 

“Ani? Sweetie hi!” came his mother’s voice, and Anakin’s smile grew soft, and loving at the sound. “I wanted to call earlier, but I was helping Mrs Jackson down the street. Congratulations on the music video!” 

“Have you seen it?” he asked eagerly, clutching his phone close to his ear to hear her better over the laughter coming from the others. 

“Yes, and I’m so proud of you honey,” she said. “It seems only yesterday you were writing songs about your favourite toy. And now look at you; about to release an album, with an amazing single to boot.” Anakin laughed at that, feeling a big ball of happiness bloom in his chest. “And I must say, that Obi-Wan of yours is incredibly dashing. When can I meet him?” 

“Soon Mom. I was actually thinking of coming ‘round to see you. Help with that set of shelves you were telling me about last week?” he intoned, leaning against the wall. 

“Oh that was  _ weeks  _ ago my love. I got Owen to give me a hand,” his mother mentioned, and Anakin rolled his eyes fondly. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re alright,” he told her, smiling widely. He’d missed his mother; it had been the longest he had not seen her. The two of them were like two peas in a pod, his father having run out on her when he found out about Anakin, and Shmi being his only parent. 

“Hey, Mom can I call you back? We’ve still got to do a few things here,” he asked. 

“Of course, but don’t forget, I’ll be waiting for a date for a meal,” she called down the line and the call ended. 

Anakin hadn’t taken two steps towards the conference table before a voice piped up from behind him. “Loud, you all have been. Heard you down the hall, I did,” Yoda told them, and Qui-Gon practically leapt from his chair in surprise. 

“I’m very sorry Yoda, I thought everyone had gone home so we could take this conference room,” he explained, but the CEO waved him off. 

“Alright, it is. Seen I have, your video. A good response it is getting, yes?” he asked them, shuffling over to peer over Ahsoka’s shoulder at the computer screen. 

“They all seem to like it so far,” she told him. 

“Hm. A tribute to your hard work, it is,” he told them. “Proud, I am, of all of you.” 

“I was thinking of proposing a day off for the band. To recoup and relax before the photo shoot for the album cover next week,” Qui-Gon mentioned, and the whole band gasped in excitement. 

Yoda seemed to consider it for a minute. “Good idea, I think. Worked hard, you have. Notify Mace of this change in plan, I will,” he told them. 

“Well, I think that’s a good idea, what do you think Ahsoka?” Anakin asked, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. 

“I believe so. What do you think, Co-leader?” This time she turned to Rex, who smiled cheekily. 

“I don’t see why not, Co-leader?” 

And finally he turned to Obi-Wan who took two seconds to reply with; “Sounds like a splendid idea.” 

While the others continued to chat amiably with Yoda, Anakin sneakily pulled out his phone once again, thumbing open his messages.

**Ani [20:33]**

Lunch for three tomorrow? 

**Mom [20:35]**

I’ll start cooking right away 

**Ani [21:18]**

Don’t overdo it please.

**Mom [21:20]**

When have I ever over done it? 

**Ani [22:04]**

Summer 2008. Need I say more? 

**Mom [22:06]**

Point taken 

_________________

“These jeans are too tight,” Obi-Wan muttered from where he stood next to the kettle, fiddling with the waistband of his trousers. Anakin looked up from where he was having a meme war with Ahsoka to take in a good view of his boyfriend’s ass. 

“Babe, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” he said good naturedly, dodging when Obi-Wan sent a teabag in his general direction. 

“That’s because it is a bad thing. I don’t want to turn up to my first meeting with your mother looking like I’m about to go off to a club,” Obi-Wan told him. “Can you pick that up please? It’s a waste of good tea.” 

“Trust me, she’s not going to care what you wear. She  _ is  _ going to care if you don’t have good manners though. The amount of times she’s come home early from a date because a man burped without excusing himself is very high,” Anakin told him, and Obi-Wan snorted in laughter. 

“I like her already,” he said, taking a sip of tea. 

“You’ll like her even more when you taste her cooking. It is the best on the planet,” Anakin said, almost drooling from the thought of it. 

“Better than mine?” Obi-Wan asked, a fake mask of hurt decorating his features. 

“Babe, you know better than I do there’s a reason I don’t let you  _ near  _ the kitchen unless you’re making tea,” Anakin said. “But, Mom’s cooking is so good that in first year I purposefully stayed home because of it instead of the student accommodation that was offered.”

“Well then, I certainly look forward to tasting it,” Obi-Wan replied, leaning over the counter to give Anakin a peck on the lips. “Now if we don’t move we’re going to be late.” And the two of them raced out the door, Obi-Wan giving R-4 a cursory skritch behind the ears before they left. 

  
  


“THREEPIO!” Anakin cried once the door opened fully, sweeping past his mother to crouch by a very energetic golden retriever whose tail was wagging so hard Obi-Wan could barely see it. 

Shmi laughed fondly at her son before turning her eye to the young man beside her. She was always sceptical of the people Anakin brought home, the memory of a half-dressed girl sneaking down her stairs had been engraved in Shmi’s mind ever since it happened. She knew her Ani deserved better, and she cast a calculating eye over the new Boyfriend. 

She hadn’t known what to expect from the scant amount of information she’d gotten from Anakin, but it wasn’t a crisp British accent and the firm handshake she got. 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Mrs Skywalker,” he told her, smiling charmingly and Shmi gave a small internal approved nod. 

“And you, Mr Kenobi,” she returned, “and please call me Shmi.” 

“Then call me Obi-Wan,” he said, smiling brightly. Shmi was beginning to adore him already. “Thank you for having us at such short notice.” 

“Oh don’t worry about it. I was going to storm into that record label any day now to drag Ani back again. Speaking of, are you going to say hello to your long-suffering mother?” she called to her son, watching as he stood from his position sheepishly. She tapped her cheek twice with her index finger and he leaned in obligingly. 

“Hi Mom,” he said, pecking her cheek. “Sorry I’ve been out of contact for so long.” 

“Yes, three months. I’ve heard neither hide nor hair from you apart from what I could gather from the newspapers,” she replied, sniffing in mock disapproval. “I had to make do with the  _ dog  _ for company.” 

“I’m sure Threepio wasn’t that bad,” Anakin said, and he glared at Obi-Wan when he chuckled. His boyfriend had ended up crouched next to said canine, gracefully dealing with the bad breath as he scratched him behind the ear. Threepio’s tail had not stopped moving. 

“No. But he missed you a lot,” Shmi replied, and began to lead the two boys into the kitchen, which was already filled to the brim with glorious smells. “Lunch is almost ready.” 

“Would you like me to set the table?” Obi-Wan suddenly asked, and Shmi blinked a few times in surprise. 

“Yes, please do, Obi-Wan. The cutlery is in the drawer to your left, glasses in the cabinet above your head,” Shmi told him. 

Gently whacking her son’s arm when Obi-Wan was out of earshot she turned to him with an approved look. “Why didn’t you find him sooner?” she whispered. “He’s so gorgeous, you must keep him Ani.” 

Anakin snickered, covering his mouth as Obi-Wan returned to grab the glasses from the cabinet. “Already planning to, Mom,” he replied, blue eyes trailing down Obi-Wan’s tight jeans as he walked away with three glasses in hand. 

Once the table was set, and the food laid out the three of them sat to the echoing silence of the dining room, the only sounds the scrape of their cutlery against the crockery and the appreciative noises at the taste of the food. 

“This is really good,” Obi-Wan piped up five minutes in, unable to bear the silence. “Is it your own recipe?” He reached over Anakin’s arm for the bread basket, tearing off a piece and dipping it into the red wine sauce that was drowning the meat and vegetables in his bowl. 

“No, unfortunately,” Shmi replied, glancing up from her own dish. “It was my Grandmother’s. She was the cook in the family and passed down her recipes to me.” 

“And thank God she did,” Anakin practically moaned from where he was inhaling his food with great haste, as if it would grow legs and walk off his plate. 

“By the way,” Anakin continued, “how’s it going with Lars?” 

He glanced up from his plate of food when his Mom began to almost choke on her food, and he turned his head to Obi-Wan who looked like he really wanted to kick him. 

“Love, have you ever heard of the word, ‘tact’?” he asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Anakin met his stare with a blank face, holding his gaze for exactly ten seconds. 

“Nope. Never heard of it,” he said before turning to his Mom, looking for an answer. 

She cleared her throat once more, daintily wiping her mouth with a napkin. “It is going quite well. He was sorry that he couldn’t come tonight, but he and Owen had to make a delivery today,” she said. 

“So, are these vegetables from the lot, then?” Anakin asked and she nodded. 

“Tell me how you two met?” Shmi asked and Obi-Wan chuckled quietly as Anakin’s cheeks turned as red as a tomato’s. 

Obi-Wan answered for the both of them. “The four of them, that is to say Ahsoka, Rex, Ani and Padmé played stalker on me for about two weeks before they barged into my practise session to ask if I’d join their band,” he explained. “The rest is history.” 

Anakin’s cheeks were still slightly pink as he served himself a second portion. “Has he organised the holiday yet?” he asked, and Shmi swallowed her food before speaking. 

“Cliegg?” And Anakin nodded. “He hasn’t made a move to as of yet, but you know me, I haven’t been on a honeymoon since…well since your father,” she explained, and Obi-Wan glanced up from his food, intrigued. 

“What happened to him?” he asked quietly, afraid to ask in case it was a sore subject, but Anakin replied good naturedly. 

“Dad left Mom before I was born. He felt he wasn’t cut out to be a good father,” he explained. “But it’s fine, he sends us postcards and money for presents. But it was better without him. Mom and I got on fine.” 

“What about you, Obi-Wan?” Shmi asked, and a flash of something sad flitted across Obi-Wan’s blue-green eyes, and she watched as Anakin grabbed for his hand under the table.

“My parents died when I was younger,” he began, “and I was placed in the care of my Godfather. He’s the only thing I have close enough to a parent. Although he was always busy so I had to learn how to take care of myself early on.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said reverently, and he shrugged his shoulders, before lifting his head to meet her gaze. 

“Why should you be sorry? It’s not like it is your fault and it happened years ago,” he told her, a small watery smile spreading across his lips. Anakin brought his hand up to his own to press a gentle kiss there, and Obi-Wan gazed at him with such gratefulness and love, it made Shmi’s chest hurt. 

She suddenly came to a conclusion as she was washing the dishes, the two boys outside on the sofa coddling Threepio. This boy was exactly what her Ani needed, and she was grateful the two of them had been able to find each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I never usually say this, but if you're liking this fic so far, please do leave a comment. They are an authors lifeblood after all XD.


	5. Chapter five

Every member of the 501 st glared at the men across from them, the tension so thick Qui-Gon thought he’d be able to cut through it with a knife. The two bands were at a complete standstill, neither of them moving a single inch as they sized each other up. 

It looked like a battle between the sides of light and dark, 501 st with their pastel coloured clothing and Darth with their black get up. 

“Due to their studio flooding, Darth have graciously asked whether they could rent one of ours,” Mace explained to the group. 

“Flooded my ass,” Anakin growled under his breath, glaring at the others with slight malice. He hated the thought of having to share a building with their rivals. 

“This is a good opportunity to appreciate each band's style to attempt to assuage any future…mishaps,” Qui-Gon chipped in. 

“It’s also a good press deal,” Mace admitted, and four sets of eyes glared hard at him. “Right. Well, we’ll leave you to it.” And the two men hurriedly left the studio. 

When Anakin had first listened to Darth’s single, he thought it was incredibly emo, My Chemical Romance vibe spewed over the entire song. And that’s exactly the aesthetic he was getting from the band members. 

Their design choices were…interesting and each of their styles different. 

The man on the end of the row was giving Obi-Wan an incredibly intense onceover, amber eyes roving up and down the length of him. It made something in Anakin’s chest tighten and his hands ball into fists in anger. 

Each of the members had amber eyes, most likely contacts because their pupils were too brightly coloured to be natural. Red eye shadow surrounded their gaze, and the differences in their hair made each incredibly unique. 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the one on the end finally said, voice raspy and deep behind the black cloth mask he wore over his mouth. He coughed slightly, hand coming up to cover the sound. 

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan replied, almost cordially but Anakin could hear the undertones of annoyance in his voice. Obi-Wan stood straight and tall, the image of politeness. 

“I challenge you to a drum off,” the man told him suddenly, pointing one long finger at Obi-Wan and turning his stance into one with slight menace, his long silver hair swishing behind his back. 

“And you are?” Obi-Wan asked, raising a slim eyebrow at the lack of tact. 

“Grievous,” was all the other man said before he swiftly turned and entered the booth behind him. 

Obi-Wan looked slightly startled and glanced to the others with a concerned look. No one made a move to stop the man from sitting at the drum kit set up for him and Obi-Wan, not one to back down in a fight, followed him into the booth, rolling his drumsticks over his knuckles when he sat down.

The door clicked shut behind them as the other two members turned to Anakin, Ahsoka and Rex. The rest of the 501 st tensed, expecting a challenge of the same degree. 

“Hello,” one began, holding out his gloved hand to Anakin. “Maul. Lead Guitarist and Vocalist.” And Anakin gripped his hand to shake it, matching his gaze with one of equal intensity. 

“Anakin Skywalker,” he replied and the tension in the room doubled as the two held at a standstill, gaze levelled at each other as they gripped each other’s hand. “I heard of the success of your single. Very impressive,” Anakin began, although he hadn’t been impressed at all. In fact, he’d found the composition boring, and a bit too depressing for his taste. Although he could see why others would like it. 

“Thank you. As I have yours. It’s very…auspicious that we chose to debut so closely to each other. A coincidence,” Maul replied, a sly smirk quirking his lips upwards, a glint coming to his eye. 

“Coincidence my ass,” Ahsoka murmured quietly, earning an elbow jab from Rex who stood beside her. 

Anakin’s gaze flickered to the booth where the “drum off” was in full swing. He watched Obi-Wan’s biceps ripple as he furiously beat out a rhythm, forehead beading with sweat. He’d taken his jumper off at one stage. Anakin could see it lying abandoned in the corner. His copper hair had also been pulled into a small ponytail at the back of his head at some point. 

Inside, Obi-Wan breathed heavily as he finished, licking his lips before turning his blue-green gaze to Grievous. He looked as worn out as Obi-Wan felt, but he could see the worry and anger in the man’s tense shoulders. 

“Your move,” he told him, accent pompous and condescending. Grievous almost growled at him, sticks spinning in his grip before the booth was filled with sound again. 

Ahsoka giggled from beside Anakin, and when he glanced at her with an eyebrow quirked in confusion, she leaned towards him, whispering; “that’s the most British I’ve ever heard him be.” Anakin cracked a small smile. 

“That idiot is going to over do it again,” the other man muttered in annoyance, and Anakin almost jumped in surprise. Until then, he hadn’t said a word, standing in the corner and acting like an observer. He looked almost identical to Maul in style. However facial structure and hair colour were obviously different. 

“Ah, this is my brother, Savage,” Maul intoned, throwing an arm over the man’s shoulders to drag him over. “He’s our bassist and main lyricist.” Savage raised a hand in greeting which was returned by nodding. 

“Does your bandmate do this often?” Ahsoka suddenly asked, pointing into the booth to where Grievous was furiously beating his anger out on a snare drum as Obi-Wan watched, the grey haired man’s face getting redder and redder as time went on. 

“He’s run out of challengers in our Label, so whenever he gets the chance he drags someone into a booth to test himself,” Maul explained, and the exasperation was laid on thick. “He hasn’t lost yet, but that might be because he goes for people who are clearly terrified of him. Your friend seems to be handling it well, although I hadn’t thought he’d last this long.” Anakin’s eyebrow twitched in anger, his jaw locking in place. 

“Obi-Wan is the best of the best,” Rex intoned, pride in his voice and Anakin loosened up slightly. He was very close to giving his best glare at the other vocalist. “I haven’t met anyone who can beat out rhythms as complicated as his in a long time.” 

A sudden loud shout came from inside the booth, and the group turned to see Grievous throw down his sticks in anger, looking much like a little child having a temper tantrum, Obi-Wan looking a bit smug, his high hat still vibrating beside him. It seemed they had a winner, and one of them wasn’t very happy about it. 

Grievous was about to flip the snare drum in anger when Obi-Wan sneaked out of the booth, jumper in hand and hair tumbling from its tie. “So uncivilised,” he muttered, and his three band mates chuckled as he made his way to their side, coming to stand at Anakin’s shoulder. 

There was a loud crash as the instrument banged against the wall and landed with a thud on the floor. Obi-Wan flinched as if he was physically hurt by the sound of the drum being abused. “How childish,” he said to Anakin, quietly. 

Anakin nodded distractedly, blue eyes tracking the movement of Obi-Wan’s fingers as the long digits came up to brush his hair away from his face. His cheeks were still slightly pink from the exertion and his bottom lip was plump from where he’d been biting it either to keep his laughter down, or from nerves. Or both, Anakin wasn’t sure. 

Anakin could feel a surge of arousal shoot along his spine, sending goose bumps to his skin but he shoved it far down, to where it belonged at his feet, forgotten and ignored because this was a  _ public space  _ and they were with company. Granted, company that needed an ass kicking, but company anyway. 

Grievous stormed out a few seconds later, amber eyes glaring at all of them. Harsh coughs rattled his body, almost bending him over with the force of them that Savage had to lead him over to a bench at the side. 

“He usually overdoes it?” Ahsoka asked and Maul nodded, sighing exasperatedly. “That much?” And the other vocalist gave her a tired look that screamed  _ ‘you-have-no-idea’ _ . 

From across the room the group could hear the drummer struggling out of Savage’s grip, demanding for a smoke as the two of them left the room. Well, Grievous stormed out, Savage shuffled along behind, looking like he was about to bash his bass against Grievous’ head. 

“It has been a pleasure meeting you all,” Maul finally said once the door snapped shut. “But,” he continued, picking up his guitar case and what Anakin assumed to be Savage’s bass case, “I’m afraid our time has run over. I’m sure we will be seeing each other very soon.” 

No one replied, although he was met by varying strengths of glares, but Obi-Wan looked completely impassive, glancing from his members to the other man in confusion, knowing he was missing something. 

“Right,” Anakin suddenly said once the door had shut. “I will be in the booth writing a song about kicking their butts, who's with me?” The others followed him in immediately, Obi-Wan looking like a very lost puppy. 

______________________

Anakin and Obi-Wan had a tradition. Wednesday night was Bake off night. Now, before Anakin met Obi-Wan he didn’t have a clue about this particular piece of British culture. He’d heard of it in passing, his mom watching it from time to time gave him a premise of what it was. 

But now, he and Obi-Wan would settle on the sofa, in front of the TV, cake in hand to watch the recorded episode that had aired the night before. 

No one in the band knew they watched it; Ahsoka assumed they didn’t go out on Wednesday because they were “doing the nasty” as she put it. And neither of them saw fit to correct her. Rex just seemingly didn’t care. Although he was too busy dealing with his brother’s mishaps that seemed to happen on a weekly basis. 

This episode was bread week, and Anakin clutched the freshly baked soda bread in one hand, holding the camembert container in the other. Obi-Wan slapped his leg when he moaned as he bit into the glorious snack. It was a testament to their determination that the two of them would  _ try  _ to bake something under the same category each week. If there was no time, one or the other would grab a store bought confectionary roughly the same type of cake. 

Listen, you try going into a supermarket in search of some obscure pastry. It’s harder than it is, and Anakin must have looked like an idiot when he had tried to pronounce its original name. 

“Shush,” Obi-Wan hissed at him, “I’m trying to listen.” 

“Oh come on,” Anakin grumbled with his mouth full, “you know Sandi and Noel’s jokes are so scripted they’re almost gag worthy. Why would you  _ want  _ to listen?” 

Obi-Wan didn’t deign to reply, simply fixing a hard stare upon Anakin’s face. He raised his hands in surrender as Obi-Wan settled against his side to watch. 

“Oh my god. That looks absolutely amazing,” Anakin gasped, blue eyes sparkling at the decadent tear and share bread. “I want it. Now.” 

“You have your own,” Obi-Wan chuckled, jostling Anakin’s elbow which still held the piece of half finished bread and camembert. “Or is my baking not good enough.” 

Anakin carefully leaned over, capturing Obi-Wan’s lips once, and then twice before smiling goofily at him. “Your baking is great babe, you could trump any of these posers.” 

“Except Steph,” Obi-Wan said reverently. 

“Fine except Steph,” Anakin huffed, and Obi-Wan laughed again. 

“What do you have against her?” he asked. 

“It’s just that she seems so perfect and she can’t get any bake wrong,” Anakin replied. 

“Well it was the same with Rahul from last year,” Obi-wan said, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Yes, but Rahul was such a precious bean it didn’t matter. And he was so sweet that it cancelled out that he seemed to be stealing all the Star Bakers from under their noses,” Anakin shot back and Obi-Wan agreed after considering that thought for a few seconds.

“Oh god Paul Hollywood is on the prowl again,” Anakin commented and Obi-Wan sniggered. “Honestly I’d melt into a puddle of anxiety if I was in there with them.” 

“You’d also be very sweaty,” Obi-Wan commented. 

“Oi!” Anakin cried. 

“It’s true though. This is filmed in summer and they’re dealing with twelve fully heated ovens,” Obi-Wan shrugged, and the two of them fell silent once more. 

The credits rolled before either of them moved from the sofa, and Anakin shifted in place, stretching his arms up to the ceiling in a large stretch. Obi-Wan yawned from beside him, running his fingers through his hair tiredly. 

He glanced up in confusion as Anakin began to stand. “What’re you doing?” he asked, watching as the blonde head began to pull on his boots at the door.

“Well, I need to be up early to help Mom with her car. Apparently it’s starting to sound like it’s chugging. Also gives me a chance to check on Artoo. And I thought I’d sleep at my place to not wake you up when I left,” Anakin explained, and Obi-Wan furrowed his brow. 

“There’s something I want to give you before you go,” he told him, and quickly darted into his room. As he searched his desk drawers for the box he had specifically set aside, he wondered whether he was ready for this. They’d only been together for about seven months now. Was he ready for this sort of commitment?

He came back out again with a small black box in hand, and he watched as Anakin’s cheeks paled. “It’s not what you think,” he assured him quickly, before clearing his throat. 

“Anakin,” he began, “we’ve been together for seven months now. And I can confidently say they’ve been the best seven months of my life. You make me feel whole and loved. And every day I thank whatever deity is up there, be it fate or god, that Padmé stalked me and brought you to me.” 

Anakin laughed heartily at that, tipping his head back slightly. 

“So, to commemorate our seven months together, I thought I’d give you this,” Obi-Wan told him and lifted the lid of the box gently. a key sat in the middle of the tissue paper inside, shiny and new. 

“Thanks Obi,” Anakin said, almost hesitantly, taking the key out of the box. “What does it open? Is it the key to your heart?” At that, Anakin laughed at his own joke, and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes fondly. 

“No,” he said gently, and plucked the key out of Anakin’s hands and made his way out the door. He opened it again a few moments later, with the very same key. 

The puzzle pieces clicked in Anakin’s brain and he gaped at Obi-Wan, mouth opening and shutting in surprise. His wide blue eyes gazed lovingly at Obi-Wan, who blushed and ducked his head. 

“I was tired of you forgetting your toothbrushes at home and using mine. And half your clothes have already migrated to here, so I thought, why not make it official?” and he held out the key for Anakin to take again. 

He was suddenly swept into Anakin’s arms, hands caressing his hips as his body was pulled to line up against the other’s. He could feel Anakin’s shuddering breaths through his clothing, his head buried in Obi-Wan’s shoulder. 

“I really should sleep at my own place. Otherwise I’ll never get up tomorrow and you’ll be cranky if I wake you up in the process,” he said wetly, and Obi-Wan chuckled, but kept his hold on Anakin for a bit longer, enjoying his company. 

__________________

“Why didn’t you tell us?!” Ahsoka cried, whacking her hand against Obi-Wan’s arm. “That’s a big fucking step and you left us out of the loop!?” 

Obi-Wan ducked another swipe deftly, holding his arms above his newly styled hair. He could feel the glares of the hair and make up team burning into him from the other side of the room. “Well, we were all pretty busy with the album debut. I thought it’d be a distraction.” 

“Distraction?! Do you know how much I’ve been craving for gossip around here?! I was debating going to ask Yoda why he paints his nails green just to keep my sanity,” Ahsoka exclaimed, finally abating her attack on Obi-Wan to huff at him instead.

Anakin snickered from beside him, and Obi-Wan glared at him playfully. “Such help you were,” he grumbled. 

A voice suddenly cleared behind them and the 501 st swung around. Qui-Gon stood accompanied by a curious looking woman. Although, most of the people hired by Temple Records were curious; they had a quirky old man for a CEO. 

“Gentlemen, Ahsoka,” Qui-Gon greeted, and Ahsoka stuck her tongue out playfully. “This is Aayla Secura. She will be your PR manager. Aayla, this is the 501 st .” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she replied formally, shaking each of their hands firmly. Her neat, sleek pigtails swung behind her head as she walked, and Anakin could see the streaks of blue colouring which wove through each of them. It matched her perfectly painted nails, which gleamed as she shifted through the sheets of paper attached to the clipboard in her hands. 

“As your PR manager,” she began, jolting Anakin from his thoughts, “I will be the head of your image. I will be organising talk show slots, tour dates and photoshoots for magazines, articles and the like. If you want to change your style for the next album, come to me. Hell, if you so much as want a haircut, come to me first.” 

“Damn,” Anakin whispered to Obi-Wan, “there goes my idea of a mohawk.” Obi-Wan chortled beside him. “So, why’re we here?” 

“For a photoshoot for the album cover, of course,” Aayala replied.

“Why can’t we just use the one we have for the single? Will it matter?” Ahsoka asked. 

“Yes, because it will make you guys look lazy,” Aayala told them bluntly. “It won’t take too long today. We just want some natural shots of you around the set, and one for the back cover. Don’t worry, I won’t make you do anything you’re not comfortable with. This is your album.” 

The band nodded in relief, and they were suddenly herded into place, perching on chairs and tables for the good part of an hour. Anakin was about to go blind from all the camera flashes, and he could see some of Obi-Wan’s foundation running, droplets of sweat beading at his temples. 

Ahsoka claimed the whole of the sofa that sat at the back of the room by the end, spreading the whole length of her body along the cushions. Rex, who felt too tired to toss her off, graceless lifted her feet to sit beneath them, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. 

Anakin and Obi-Wan joined them, sitting on the floor, shoulders pressed together as they watched the crew members take down complicated pieces of photography equipment and stow them away carefully. 

Qui-Gon strolled over to them, pocketing his phone as he stopped by Obi-Wan’s feet. “Car’s here,” he informed them, and Ahsoka groaned loudly. 

“Finally. I want my bed, and my Netflix, and a really big tub of ice-cream,” she said, stretching her hands out for Rex to help her up. 

“I might join you,” he told her. 

“Me too,” Obi-Wan said with a yawn. 

“Count me in,” Anakin added from where his head rested on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. 

______________________

Two weeks later found multiple people surrounding Shmi Skywalker’s dinner table, which was practically bending from the weight of the food laid out. The members of the 501 st were there, dressed smartly and chatting amiably with a few of the stylists to fill the time. 

The newly graduated Padmé stood conversing with Mace a few feet away, hair decoratively pinned to her head. Obi-Wan had received a lung popping hug from her, and a hard punch to the shoulder for keeping her out of the loop since the song-writing getaway. Obi-Wan had sheepishly apologised and watched as she snagged the CEO of his record label. He couldn’t hear the conversation from where he stood, however. 

Bant, Reeft and Garen stood on the other side of the room, and he could see Bant holding in her squeals as she took in Yoda and Aayla. Both of whom were attempting to chat with all three but wouldn’t be getting anything out of the star struck girl any time soon. 

The hostess stood by Cliegg and his son, observing from the side lines. She smiled whenever he caught her eye, winked once when Anakin stepped closer to thank her for hosting. 

From his spot, Obi-Wan could just see the television in the corner of the room, countdown slowly ticking to midnight, and copies of their album spread in boxes around the area. Their first album release was tonight at midnight. And Obi-Wan could feel the butterflies starting already. 

He smiled as Anakin came to stand beside him, arm gently wrapping around his waist. 

“Hey Client,” Padmé suddenly exclaimed, looping her arm over Anakin’s shoulders. 

“Hey Padm—wait, what?” Anakin asked, doing a double take and staring at the girl beside him in surprise. “Client? Does that mean…?” 

“That I got a job working for Temple Records as your lawyer? Yes, yes I did,” she replied with an impish grin. 

“Padmé!” Ahsoka squealed, pulling her in for a hug. “That means we get to see you every day now!” 

“Congrats,” Obi-Wan and Rex told her, Rex clapping his hand on her shoulder, almost causing her to tip over as she tried to keep an arm around Ashoka. 

“I mean it isn’t finalised yet,” Padmé explained, “I have to come in tomorrow to finalise the paperwork, but essentially, I am now your legal protector. Anyone steals your work you come to me.” She proudly jabbed her thumb into her chest, grinning widely. 

“T-minus two minutes!” Bant suddenly called out, gesturing to the TV screen in the corner, and the butterflies started anew. 

Obi-Wan had spent years dreaming of a chance to have his music published worldwide. And standing next to his boyfriend and bandmates, he pinched himself to confirm it was real. 

As the countdown neared midnight, the guests began shouting along with it. “Congratulations!” everyone cried when the clock chimed midnight, an exact parody of New Year's Eve. The members of the 501 st crowded around each other, gripping each other’s shoulders in pride as the rest of their party began to jump around to “‘Shadow Huntin’”. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t even embarrassed to say he cried. 

____________________

“Welcome back to the show. Now, today we have very special guests. The members of the 501 st ! Welcome,” came the radio presenter’s voice. 

“Hi, nice to be here. We’re the 501 st . I’m Anakin.” 

“Obi-Wan.”

“Ahsoka.”

“Rex.” 

“Welcome guys. And by the way, may I say congratulations on your debut album ‘Solo’,” the presenter said. “Shooting up to the top twenty on the charts in less than two weeks! You must be very proud.” 

“Yeah, we didn’t even think it’d make the top one hundred, let alone top twenty,” Ahsoka told her. 

“Well, it is a very amazing achievement,” the presenter said. “Now, I’ve been wondering, why the title ‘Solo’?” 

“Well, we always thought this album would be about individuality; staying true to who you are and not being anyone else. So we thought Solo was the best title to convey that, and also the idea that we’re each our own person,” Obi-Wan said. 

“Ah, I get it now,” the presenter replied. “And there’s been a rumour that some of the songs were written by one of you. Is this true?” 

“Well,” Anakin said, “some we wrote ourselves, and others we came together to write the lyrics and one of us wrote the melody or in the case of ‘Shadow Huntin’’ it was all of us coming together to write the whole thing.” 

“And I’m guessing you wrote a solo song each?” 

“Yes, so Anakin wrote ‘Don’t let me fall’, I wrote ‘Losers don’t die’, Obi-Wan ‘Evolution’ and Ahsoka ‘Necessary for love’,” Rex explained, ticking each song off his fingers. 

“And who came up with the brilliant riff in ‘Renegade’?” the presenter asked. 

“Obi-Wan,” Rex, Ahsoka and Anakin said simultaneously, and Obi-Wan blushed hard. 

“It is so catchy and motivational. How did it come to be?” the presenter asked. 

“It started as a rhythm and then divulged from there. There wasn’t really any main inspiration for it,” he said, hunching up his shoulders slightly. 

“And the single ‘Shadow Huntin’’. Does it have a special meaning for the band in general?” the presenter asked. 

“Yes, most of us have encountered demons at some point in our life. And we wanted to convey a song where we describe battling those demons ourselves,” Ahsoka explained. “And ‘Shadow Huntin’’ was born.” 

“Amazing. Well, we’ll come back after a listen of the 501 st hit single of their debut album ‘Solo’. Here is ‘Shadow Huntin’’.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your lovely comments! It's so nice to see everyone's enjoying it so far! 
> 
> Yes, the album is named after the Han Solo film and yes, I did just make a massive reference to the battle between Grievous and Obi-Wan. That part was inspired by one of my friends actually! 
> 
> Also, all the song titles are my original ideas and the full set list is;   
> Renegade   
> Don't let me fall (Anakin's)  
> Evolution (Obi-Wan's)  
> Necessary for love (Ahsoka's)  
> Losers don't die (Rex's)  
> Mortality for Immortality   
> Shadow huntin'. 
> 
> Alright, I'll be back next week with the next update. Keep leaving those comments guys it's what keeps a writer motivated!


	6. Chapter six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who (finally) got to see Hamilton and has had the soundtrack stuck in her head most of the week?
> 
> Yeah it me. BUT it was inevitable that I'd fall in love with this musical. The staging, choreography, and vocals were absolutely magnificent and the MASSIVE HARP PART!!!! SOMEONE GIVE ME THAT MUSIC I WANT TO LEARN IT SJFB-- 
> 
> *Ahem* 
> 
> Right then, on with the chapter.

“Anakin, I’m all for going out for a meal,” Obi-Wan began as he pulled at his collar, “but why are we going to such a fancy restaurant?” Anakin, who sat in the driver’s seat with his hands capably caressing the wheel, looked astonishedly at him. 

“I’m astonished, nay, shooketh that you haven’t remembered the date today,” Anakin gasped, and Obi-Wan raised his eyebrow as he glanced at the dashboard, which was proudly displaying that it was the 12 th of October. 

“You honestly don’t remember?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan shook his head slowly. “Unbelievable,” came the muttered reply. 

“Do enlighten me,” Obi-Wan sighed almost in exasperation at Anakin’s antics, settling in the passenger seat. 

“Today, my most poised and gorgeous honey bun, is the one year anniversary of our inevitable meeting,” Anakin told him, smiling widely.

“You mean the one year anniversary of Padmé’s first of many failed stalker attempts?” Obi-Wan asked rhetorically. “Also, never call me ‘honey bun’ again please.” 

“You got it, darling,” Anakin replied, gaining a scowl from Obi-Wan, which was wiped clean from his lips when he spotted their destination on the right. 

“Oh, Anakin no,” Obi-Wan almost whined, and Anakin grinned impishly at him. 

“Anakin yes,” he said, pulling the car up to the entrance and getting out effortlessly. He shooed the attendant away when he tried to open the door, and did it himself, waiting for Obi-Wan to take his hand while the other man groaned pitifully. 

“Why. Just-just why?” he asked him, giving him the most pathetic look as he was dragged inside the swankiest restaurant on that side of town, all red carpet and white tie waiters ready for their beck and call. 

“Well, I wanted to treat my love, and what better way than to have really posh food and laugh about it on the toilet while we shit our guts out,” he said, startling a loud laugh from Obi-Wan, and earning a stern look from the man at the reception desk. 

The two of them sheepishly ducked their heads as one of the waiters led them to a table for two at the side of the restaurant, where they were deposited. 

Obi-Wan shifted in his seat uncomfortably but kept the movement to a minimum after receiving some dirty looks from the couple next to them. He spotted Anakin slyly pulling at the collar of his shirt as the waiter returned with their menus. 

They were thick and heavy, maroon in colour and Obi-Wan’s eyes widened as he turned to the first page. 

“What?” Anakin asked as the waiter filled two glasses with water and placed them delicately on the table. He hadn’t opened his own tome, checking his phone for texts and notifications instead and. 

Obi-Wan had a stupid smile stretching his mouth and he looked two seconds away from giggling. “It’s in French,” he told Anakin, almost whispering. 

“And? You can read it right?” Anakin asked, not really seeing the problem at hand, or why his boyfriend was staring at him incredulously. 

“Bold of you to think I’m fluent in French,” he deadpanned, flipping a page of the extensive menu. 

“You learnt it in school, right?” 

“Yeah, but that was only the basics,” Obi-Wan told him. “All I remember from that class is  _ ‘Oh Mon dieu! Mes pantalons sont en feu!’ _ ” 

Anakin laughed, coughing as the water he drank went down the wrong way. “Seriously?” he asked incredulously. 

“I kid you not,” Obi-Wan said, gazing over the choices again. “I mean some of these sound incredibly extensive.” 

“Alright, well how about this. We close our eyes and pick one thing at random from the starters menu. Then we do the same for the main and dessert,” Anakin compromised. 

“That’s way too expensive Anakin,” Obi-Wan muttered, slightly reproachful. 

“Hey,” Anakin said, reaching a hand across the table to hold Obi-Wan’s comfortingly. “We can afford to splurge. I mean hell what with how well the album is going we’ll have cash to spare.” 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t worry,” Obi-Wan said and Anakin could see the anxiety clearly in his blue-green eyes and he clutched Obi-Wan’s hand tighter. 

“Hey,” he said, quieter and leaning forward. “We deserve this.” He squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand again as the waiter, looking terribly disgruntled came back again for their order. 

Obi-Wan had to laugh as Anakin butchered the French, his accent making for a terrible impression as the waiter walked off again, almost with his nose in the air. Anakin smirked at him, pleased and proud that he got him to laugh again. 

“Almost makes me wish we’d just got Kentucky fried chicken,” Anakin grumbled, crossing his arms like a petulant child. But Obi-Wan could see the mischievous and amusing glint in his blue eyes and rolled his own in fondness. 

“To us,” Anakin toasted, holding up the glass of wine that arrived five minutes later. Obi-Wan raised his own glass as well. “And to our many more albums. May they be as successful as this one.” And the two glasses came together with a clear chime. 

As their first course arrived, Obi-Wan glanced up to see an elderly gentleman staring at him. More like he was staring at both of them, brow furrowed to the point where the wrinkles on his forehead became more pronounced. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured, halting Anakin’s fork in the air. “Don’t look now, but there’s a guy staring at us.” Anakin’s own brow furrowed, and the fork clattered to the plate loudly as he placed it down, and again the couple beside them glared at them. 

“Is he sketchy?” he asked quietly, and Obi-Wan glanced over again. The man had turned back to his own food once more, and he didn’t seem to be too suspicious. In fact, Obi-Wan felt as if he knew him from somewhere. 

“He’s very familiar,” he told Anakin, and the other shrugged, continuing to eat his own food. 

“Maybe he’ll come over when he’s ready,” he said, and Obi-Wan glanced away from the man. 

Indeed, he did make his way over after finishing his own meal, coat long and heavy looking and shoes polished to a perfect gleam. He had the sort of look that would be nice on a grandfather, if it wasn’t for the piranha-like smile stretching across his thin mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, coming to a stop at their table. A plate of cheesecake sat in between them, and Anakin looked annoyed at being interrupted. “I couldn’t help but recognise you two. Are you perhaps from the band 501 st ?” 

“Yes, may we help you?” Obi-Wan asked in his politest tone, wanting desperately for him to leave. 

“I only wanted to come over before I left to congratulate you on your new album. I was so surprised it got so high in the charts,” the man replied. 

“Well we’re very grateful it’s been so successful. And thank you for taking time to congratulate us,” Anakin said, smiling cordially, but Obi-Wan could see the side of his eyes straining, knowing it was forced.

The man didn’t say anymore and moved away with a smile of his own, taking the awkward tension away with him. 

“Well, that was uncomfortable,” Obi-Wan commented and Anakin snorted. 

_________________

“Got the booze?” Anakin asked, ass tilted to the ceiling as he pulled the tray out from the oven. His mouth watered at the smell filling the kitchen, almost incredibly tempted to steal a piece of pizza right then. But, he knew a burnt tongue and annoyed boyfriend would be all he got. 

“Uh huh,” Obi-Wan replied from where he was staring dazedly at the sight before shaking his head, blushing when Anakin winked lewdly.

“Like what you see?” he asked coyly, and Obi-Wan scoffed good naturedly, the tea towel he was holding landing on Anakin’s head. 

“Hardly,” Obi-Wan teased. “Do we have the Jenga?” 

Anakin nodded, “with post-its of dares attached as requested, my love.” He sidled up to him, tugging Obi-Wan towards him until they were chest to chest. 

It was times like this Anakin appreciated the height difference as he stared adoringly at Obi-Wan. His hands crept up from his waist to Obi-Wan’s cheeks, thumb carefully gliding over his cheek bones. Obi-Wan’s eyes slid shut in content, leaning up on his tiptoes to reach Anakin’s kiss. 

They slid together perfectly, Obi-Wan’s arms making their way around Anakin’s own waist. They moved in perfect synchronicity, and Anakin’s tongue swiped Obi-Wan’s bottom lip for access—

The buzzer going off interrupted them, and Anakin’s blue eyes set a hard glare to the small unassuming box beside the door frame as if it personally offended him. He settled his head in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck and shoulder, nibbling at the skin he could see there. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured as the buzzer went off again. “Anakin, that's Ahsoka and Rex. If we don’t let them in they’re going to storm up here.” 

Anakin almost growled when Obi-Wan tried to move and Obi-Wan chuckled. “Love, I want to keep going too but we can’t. We promised the others we’d hang out tonight.” 

Anakin huffed into Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and he felt a shiver up his spine as Anakin nosed his skin again. 

A sudden thumping at their door got their attention. “Whatever dirty things you guys are doing in there better finish up before I come in! I’ll tell Padmé my innocent eyes were ruined by you two,” came Ahsoka’s voice through the wood. 

“You’re anything  _ but  _ innocent Snips,” Anakin called out, peeling himself away from Obi-Wan to open the door. “I’d be surprised if I didn’t find you and Barriss in a more… compromised position than Obi-Wan and I.” 

“Well, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do,” she said sassily, and the three boys shuddered at the notion that implied. She shouldered her way in easily, claiming half of the love seat by placing her feet on the cushions, boots and all. 

“Off,” Obi-Wan said, only half-stern as he gestured to her feet. Ahsoka whined, loudly, before taking off her shoes and throwing them towards the front door. “Thank you,” Obi-Wan said civilly. 

Anakin suddenly came back in with the pizza held aloft in one hand and the Jenga box cradled under his arm. Obi-Wan deftly swiped the post-its from the desk drawer as they all took their seats, Ahsoka immediately going for the pizza. Rex cracked the first can of beer open. 

“Oh,” Ahsoka suddenly exclaimed, pulling a very familiar box from her bag, “I brought this just in case.” She held up the black coloured box. 

“No,” Anakin said firmly. 

“But—” 

“Last time we played Cards against Humanity Rex stormed out after only twenty minutes and wouldn’t talk to us for the rest of the week,” Anakin said. “So this,” and he snatched the box away from her, “goes away.” 

Ahsoka pouted as she watched him put it on the bookshelf, Obi-Wan smiling slightly as he folded each post-it and placed it on a Jenga piece carefully. 

It took awhile for them to get properly tipsy. The pizza was gone by the time all of them were ruddy cheeked and giggling uncontrollably. 

As with any Jenga game they held together, they tried to psyche one another out, shouting and childishly pulling faces and generally being loud. It was about ten to eleven when a cacophonous thumping sounded against the wall. 

“Shut up!” the shout came, muffled and distorted, but still sounding incredibly annoyed. 

“Oh fuck off!” Anakin called back; the brain-to-mouth filter completely shot as the other three only laughed louder. Obi-Wan wiped tears from his eyes as he repeated Anakin’s sentiment only louder, which set Ahsoka off again. 

“Dare,” Rex said once he’d unfolded the post-it. He took a few seconds to read it, squinting hard. “Uh, it just says Yoda.” 

Anakin laughed loudly, while Ahsoka looked completely confused. 

“You’re-You’re meant to imitate Yoda as best you can,” Obi-Wan explained, words slurring slightly from the alcohol. “You can pass it and take another if you want.” 

“No, no I’ll do it,” Rex said, and Ahsoka made a sound curiously similar to a pterodactyl, rolling around on the sofa. As he stood up, Anakin noticed a vibration coming from his pocket. He stumbled up from where he sat by Obi-Wan into a corner of the sitting room, motioning clumsily for the rest of them to be quiet. 

“Hello?” he answered, words slightly slurred from the two bottles of beer he had had. 

“Anakin?” 

“Qui-Gon!” Anakin called gleefully, jabbing his thumb at his phone screen to put the man on speaker as the others quieted down. “How’s it going?” 

“Are you drunk?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding slightly dubious.

“YES!” Ahsoka yelled from where she sat on the sofa, almost upside down and the others laughed loudly. 

“Are you safe?” Qui-Gon asked next. 

“Yes,  _ Dad, _ ” Obi-Wan commented, sounding completely like a grumpy teenager and Ahsoka did her pterodactyl impression once again as Anakin snorted in laughter. 

“Right,” Qui-Gon continued, “well, I’m just calling to let you know that you’re all needed for a meeting tomorrow morning. Be here at ten am sharp.” 

A chorus of groans answered him, Rex even slipped off the armchair he was seated on, flopping onto the rug in annoyance. 

“Copy that,” Anakin said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us we need to go finish our Qui-Gon Gin and Tonics.” This time the laughter was chaotic, and Anakin threw his phone in the general direction of the sofa. It actually landed in the hallway. 

_______________________

The headaches the next morning were astronomical. And none of them were allowed to wear sunglasses because Mace thought it ‘unprofessional’. Although, the eyewear would’ve saved him from four hard glares as the band wandered in. Mace could practically  _ hear  _ his partner’s laughter from beside him, no matter how hard he attempted to hide them. 

“Good morning,” he said cordially, and the four members flopped into their seats in front of the two CEOs. 

“More like terrible morning,” Rex grumbled, slipping down further in his seat to the point where only his head was visible. 

Ahsoka slung her Doc’s over the arm of her seat, tipping her head back so it leant against Anakin’s shoulder. The lead vocalist had his own body spread out in his seat, head tipped back to the ceiling and Obi-Wan sat with his legs crossed, fingers massaging his temples. 

Mace opened his mouth to scold the four of them, but a hard jab in his side turned his head towards Yoda. The old man shook his head slightly, and Mace raised his eyebrows. 

“Late, you were last night, hm?” he asked, and he got three answering loud moans. Obi-Wan simply nodded his head, wincing as the sound aggravated his obvious migraine. “Quick, we shall make this,” Yoda said, pulling out a folder from a drawer in his desk. 

It was yellow in colour and thick with paper. No one made a move to open in, so Mace cleared his throat. Obi-Wan heaved a huge sigh, pulling himself forward to open the file. The others watched him flick through masses of paper, mouth dropping open slightly in surprise.

“What?” Anakin asked finally, curiosity peaked as Obi-Wan smiled widely. Ahsoka and Rex finally sat up, taking notice of their drummer’s excitement. 

“I-It’s a plan for a tour,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

“What?!” Ahsoka almost shrieked, bounding over to get a look over Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “You’re kidding!?” she asked Yoda and Mace, gaze darting between the two CEOs as they smiled kindly and proudly at the four of them. 

“We’re going on tour?!” Rex asked them to confirm, taking the file from Anakin who had been dazedly looking at it. “How?!”

“Due to the success of ‘Solo’, we thought it would be a good way to promote your talent. I’m guessing this is acceptable?” Mace explained.

“Deserved it, you have,” Yoda said, smiling crookedly at the four of them. “Remember, I do, my first tour. The East Coast, it covered. Hm, very different to now, it was,” he reminisced with a wistful gaze. 

“It starts in DC, and ends in Austin, Texas. You’ll be playing at small festivals, and concert halls. We’ve planned it so you’re playing to about three hundred people a night but spread over a few days,” Mace explained. 

“But the dates are in July,” Rex suddenly pointed out. 

“Yes,” Qui-Gon piped up from where he stood. “It means we have ample time to book the venues, organise transport, merchandise and the legal jargon before we leave.” 

“So, what’s the point of telling us now?” Anakin asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. 

Mace had to hold back the urge to roll his eyes. “We will need your opinion on merchandising stock, organising the set list and all that. It’s not as if you’ll be sitting back on your asses and watching the rest of us do all the work.” 

“I’ve contacted the local radio station as well for you four to promote the album. Until we get the dates and venues set, none of this is to go public, alright?” he added, staring hard at them. 

“Good it is, to improve patience,” Yoda said, and four incredulous stares turned to him. He said no more though, just chuckled quietly to himself. 

“Right. Of course, you’ll need to keep up the writing. We will want to be returning from this, geared up to get back into the recording booth,” Mace said, and all four members groaned in annoyance, even Obi-Wan. 

“We can never catch a break, can we?” Ahsoka asked from where she’d buried her head in Anakin’s shoulder. 

“Nope,” the three boys replied in disgruntled tones. 

_________________

It was a few weeks later that found the four of them in front of a stout blue front door. It was one Obi-Wan knew well, which was obvious when he slotted the well worn key into the lock with ease, turning it easily and flinging the door wide open. 

When Qui-Gon had handed him the key, Obi-Wan had been quick to book flights and order the other three to pack their bags. Mace hadn’t even been able to complain. 

The interior was dark and smelt musty but Obi-Wan moved deftly over to the shutters, pulling them open to the view of the bright blue reservoir at the back as the others put down their bags. 

“Woah,” Anakin murmured in awe, wandering over to the window to get a better look. The water was a bright sparkling colour, the sun reflecting off its surface. A small wooden pier jutted out from the rocky shore, and a forest of green stretched out the other side of the lake. 

“Qui-Gon used to bring me here every summer,” Obi-Wan explained, snaking an arm around Anakin’s waist. “Sometimes he’d bring Tahl, but often it was just me and him.” 

Anakin’s smile grew soft as he bent his head to press a kiss to Obi-Wan’s brow. “I love it,” he said quietly. 

The two of them stood there for a few minutes before Obi-Wan was moving again, picking up his own bag and leading the rest of them to their rooms. “Once you’re done unpacking grab your bathers and we’ll head down to the lake.” 

“Bathers,” Ahsoka mocked in her best accent, Rex snorting in laughter. 

“Ha, ha very funny,” Obi-Wan groused as he brought Anakin to a door at the end of the corridor. 

The room was sparsely decorated, and Obi-Wan plopped his bag on the bed in the corner. It was double sized, as Obi-Wan had been prone to spreading out like a starfish when he was a child. There had been many accidents of him falling out of the bed. However, this meant both he and Anakin would be able to fit, and Obi-Wan hadn’t fallen out of bed since he was eleven. 

“What do you think?” he asked gently, curling his arms around Anakin’s hips from behind and leaning his chin on his shoulder. 

“I think it’s gorgeous,” Anakin replied, cradling Obi-Wan’s hands close. Obi-Wan pressed a kiss to his skin and led him out the door towards the back entrance. 

The French windows, with their peeling white paint, opened up to the wooden pier, the wood refreshing against their feet as the four of them raced towards the water. It felt so fresh and gorgeous that they stayed in until their skin became wrinkly and hauling themselves up onto the pier felt like such a chore that they floated – or in the case of Anakin – dragged themselves towards shore. 

  
  


Ahsoka woke the next morning, rubbing sleep from her eyes. It was her nose that had pulled her from a blissful rest, one that had been hard to achieve the night before. But she couldn’t really blame it as she got closer and closer to the smells coming from the kitchen. 

“Good morning Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan called from where he stood by the stove, wooden spoon in hand and apron tied around his waist. It took Ahsoka a few seconds and a second glance which almost gave her whiplash to notice that Obi-Wan was just wearing boxer shorts, and the apron. Nothing else. 

And he looked more smug than usual

“Morning Snips,” Anakin called from the kitchen table, a bright smile stretching his cheeks. And now she  _ knew  _ something was up. Anakin was never chipper in the morning. Hell, he cursed them more often than not. 

She edged warily towards the table to take a seat, making sure to leave one between her and Anakin in case he revealed himself as an assassin in disguise and tried to go for her head. 

“Can you guys  _ try  _ to keep your shenanigans quieter tonight?” Rex suddenly asked, wandering in and taking a seat across from Anakin. “I could barely get to sleep last night you were so loud.” 

And now the puzzle pieces clicked as Anakin smirked and Obi-Wan went bright red. “That’s what that was?!” Ashoka asked, glancing between the two in astonishment as Obi-Wan wandered over with a pot in his hands. “I couldn’t get to sleep until two in the morning. I thought it was just a pair of foxes going for it really loudly.” 

Anakin squawked loudly in outrage while Rex roared with laughter. Obi-Wan didn’t say a word as he began to dish out food, but Ahsoka thought that steam would come out of his ears if his cheeks got any redder. 

“We apologise,” Obi-Wan told the other two, elbowing Anakin hard in the side to get him to shut up. “And we will try to aim to have our…shenanigans when you two aren’t here.” 

“Just, please don’t mention the thing about the foxes with anyone,” Anakin implored, and Rex wheezed with laughter, almost falling off his chair. 

“Agreed,” Ahsoka amended, stifling giggles of her own. 

They spent the day sprawled out in the deck chairs by the French windows, a steady stream of mocktails and food satisfying their appetites. The sunshine was glorious, and after the third layer of sun cream Obi-Wan finally laid back to relax. 

Anakin had left his phone in the bedroom after the sixth missed call from Mace. It was obvious he had found out about their gallivanting. And the four of them didn’t care, they were here to get away from the bustle of the record label and specifically Mace. Although, that wasn’t necessarily said out loud – but it was heavily implied. 

There was a lot of work to be done for the preparation of the tour, and with the announcement that Darth would be travelling as well, the race was on to get the dates and venues they wanted. Not to mention they had multiple designers send them ideas for merchandise. 

The four of them, however, had decided that they wanted to support an up and coming artist, and were vying for someone not that well known, but would understand their vision for the merch. After all, that was what people would take home as a physical memory of the concert they’d been to. 

But, this was their one chance to get away from everything and relax. And they wanted to make the most of it before they were yanked back into the real world and a workload was dumped on them. 

They spent most of the morning outside, laid back on deck chairs or in Ahsoka’s case on the floor. 

Obi-Wan found himself with a sketchbook in his lap, his chair angled ever so slightly towards the others as his pencil flew across the paper. He started with Ahsoka, as she was the most liable to blush and turn away if she knew her portrait was being drawn. 

He sketched over the lines of her pigtails, shading in the blue highlights as he went. He caught the slope of her small nose, her plump lips and angled his pencil to capture the shape of her neck. He outlines her big eyes, shading in the pupils because he didn’t have his colours with him. 

She caught him glancing at her just as he finished, and she blushed a deep red but stayed sitting forward, no matter how much she squirmed under the pressure. 

Obi-Wan moved swiftly onto Anakin, and he laughed quietly at the absolute mess his hair had made. It stuck out in all directions, and the small hair tie at the base of his neck was doing nothing to help. He used sweeping strokes of his pencil to capture his curls, and he drew Anakin’s wide carefree smile, all teeth and gums as he laughed uproariously at something Rex said. 

Obi-Wan didn’t need to look up as much as he had for Ahsoka as he had mapped out Anakin’s lines while they laid in bed, his fingertip graceful and soft as it had run up and down the slope of his nose. 

Rex was a difficult person to draw. He moved when he talked and adjusted his position constantly. His hands flailed wildly and Obi-Wan found it difficult to get a good look at his face for the proportions. However, with all the difficulty, he was able to get a satisfactory rendering on the page, and he finally glanced up and joined in the conversation, pencil held slack in his hand. 

Later, he realised his sketchbook was missing, but he didn’t worry about it as he’d probably left it in the bedroom when he was getting changed. However, he found it later laying on the coffee table, a sketch of himself with his shades on, hair pushed back as his head tilted to drink in the sunlight, right next to the one he made of Anakin. 

The sketch was a bit shaky, and Obi-Wan smiled as he traced his fingers over the lines of the drawing appreciatively. But he could see the care and love the artist had placed into the lines of his neck, the slant of his nose and the detail put into his hair.

Which, now that he thought about it, needed a bit of a cut. He now realised why Ahsoka took to calling him a rip-off of Jesus sometimes. Especially when he didn’t shave for a while. 

He chuckled at the thought as he carefully closed and stowed the sketchbook back on his bedside table, heading back out to join the others around the impromptu marshmallow roasting session, taking his seat next to Anakin. 

“You’d think I wouldn’t want to go back yet,” Ahsoka suddenly said. “But I’m really excited to go on tour and play to all my adoring fans.” She sighed dramatically, gazing into the distance. 

“The only fans you’ll have will be a bunch of dweebs. And there will only be five of them,” Anakin quipped, and Ahsoka chucked a burnt marshmallow at his head. 

“At least I won’t have to deal with drooling fangirls. I bet you’re going to have to use Obi-Wan as a human shield,” she retorted. 

“I don’t mind,” Obi-Wan replied, shrugging slightly as he reached over to grab his own slightly charred glob of sweetness, popping it into his mouth quickly. 

Ahsoka stared astonished at him as he chewed, and he furrowed his eyebrows at her. He raised them, as if to say  _ you-got-something-to-say-about-my-eating-habits? _

Meanwhile, Anakin smiled widely. “Awe Babe,” he told Obi-Wan, leaning over to press a wet kiss on his temple. To which Obi-Wan grimaced slightly and wiped the line of saliva from his cheek, swiping it against Ahsoka’s pant leg. 

Rex rolled his eyes. “I’m surrounded by idiots,” he said. 

“But you love us,” Ahsoka told him, and he heaved a huge put upon sigh. 

<.>

“Why aren’t they answering?” Mace demanded, throwing his phone back onto the desk. It clattered slightly where it landed and laid still, but Qui-Gon eyed it warily for a few seconds more to ensure it didn’t suddenly fly off the desk. 

“As I have said,” he told him, clearing his throat, “they are on a vacation to my holiday home in Texas. It’s just for a few days, and then they will be back in time to kickstart the tour.” 

“Yes, which they need to be rehearsing for, not lounging about for days on end,” Mace cried in annoyance, throwing his hands up into the air in exasperation. 

“Good it is, for them to have a break, is it not?” Yoda asked him, toying with the nail polish that was gradually beginning to chip slightly. He cocked his head in askance when Mace opened his mouth to protest.

“Yes, but not when we’re about to organise a tour that could span for weeks on end,” Mace said. “They could’ve waited until  _ after  _ the planning was finished.” 

“If I recall correctly, the last time those four got a well earned rest was during the creation of their album, and even then they were busy writing when they should’ve been relaxing,” Qui-Gon said. “They need this, Mace. Unless you want a half-assed performance and a great financial loss to the label.” 

“You  _ know  _ better than  _ anyone  _ that cannot happen. Palpatine is already breathing down our necks as it is,” Mace said, jabbing his forefinger into the wood of the tabletop. “We can’t allow for a slip up, not now.” 

“Then impertinent, this vacation is, yes?” Yoda asked, and Mace’s brown eyes widened as he just realised what he had said. 

He grumbled as he slid down in his seat, chin placed onto his chest in annoyance at being played. 

“Successful you have been with the venues, hm?” Yoda asked Qui-Gon, diverting from Mace’s sulking. 

“Yes, I’ve confirmed the date with the festival in Texas, and we’re awaiting word from Dallas and Atlanta. Boston has declined on the terms that their schedule is fully booked,” Qui-Gon said, opening the black notebook that had been sitting innocent in his hands. 

“And the merchandise?” Yoda inquired. 

“Designed and being shipped as we speak,” came the reply, and Yoda grinned widely, chuckling to himself. 

“Had this much fun, I have not had, in a long time,” he told the other two as Mace finally came back to join the conversation, finally sitting up from his slumped over position. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please do leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed (or if I missed anything ahehe)! It's what keeps my brainbox turning guys! <3


	7. Chapter seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end T-T

“You got everything?” Obi-Wan called out. He zipped up the large suitcase that sat on his bed, doing a quick turn around their bedroom to check if he missed anything. He was sure he didn’t but it was always good to check one last time. Or maybe three. 

Anakin dashed in from the corridor, a packet of pop tarts held between his teeth as he shoved another pair of his boots into his own case. “Yep,” he replied through the plastic, voice slightly muffled. 

“Toothbrush?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin snapped his fingers before dashing into the bathroom. “You’d lose your head,” Obi-Wan began teasingly. 

“I know, if it wasn’t screwed on my neck,” Anakin finished as he stuffed his toothbrush in with his other things. “I don’t get why we can’t just come home after two weeks. Like, how’re we going to wash our clothes?” 

“On the tour bus, I presume. I’m sure Qui-Gon has it all figured out. And we can’t exactly cut a two month tour down the middle because one of us wants a clean towel,” Obi-Wan replied, slinging his shoulder bag on as he lifted the suitcase onto the floor.

“That’s the other thing; are we staying in the tour bus period? Or are we gonna get proper beds?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan stopped to stare. 

“I swear information goes in one ear out the other,” he said, shaking his head in exasperation. “We’re going to be staying in a hotel for the cities we stop at, but while traveling we will be in the tour bus.” 

Anakin pouted slightly in annoyance but followed along behind as the two of them made their way out the door. They’d left Arfour with Shmi, hoping that Threepio wouldn’t kill him. But, to be honest it’d be the cat who’d intimidate the dog, so the two of them weren’t too anxious. 

Anakin gasped suddenly, dashing towards where Artoo sat in his parking spot. Anakin, ever the drama queen, threw himself over the bonnet, clutching the sides of the car and pouting at Obi-Wan. Who rolled his eyes, hard. 

“We said that we wouldn’t take any extra vehicles,” Obi-Wan reminded him, and Anakin huffed as he turned his face to press his cheek against one of the blue racing stripes. “We need to leave him here, and Bant will come over every two weeks to take him out for a spin.” 

“But Banter doesn’t know how tender he is with the joystick. Or how you have to jiggle the keys to get him started,” Anakin grumped, full on pouting now. 

“You can call her on the bus ride there and tell her yourself,” Obi-Wan placated, wandering over to practically peel Anakin off of the car. “This is no time to be melodramatic.” 

“This is definitely time to be melodramatic,” Anakin said as they stared at the selection of bedding on the tour bus an hour later. His face was the picture of abject horror and Obi-Wan struggled to stifle his laughter. 

The vehicle itself was large enough to fit the four of them plus a few more if needed. It held a small kitchenette, shower and toilet. The beds were slightly to be desired. With four bunks separated by at least a foot of space which led to the door of the bedroom, which held a much larger bed. 

All four of their gazes locked on to the bed, each member staring competitively at each other while Qui-Gon rolled his eyes from where he stood next to the driver’s seat. He knew where this was going, and didn’t want to get involved. 

“Alright,” Rex said, “rock, paper scissors to see who gets the big bed.” 

“And no black holes, guns or UFOs Snips,” Anakin cut it, jabbing his finger at Ahsoka, who squawked indignantly as they all prepped their hands. 

Obi-Wan didn’t particularly care but joined in anyway. The big bed might be better for his shoulders. 

In the end, it was Ahsoka who won, and she didn’t even use her usual tricks. She sauntered down the ‘hallway’ with her duffle over her shoulder and suitcase dragging behind her. The three boys could see her leaping backwards onto the mattress through the door, and she wiggled her fingers at them as she giggled. 

“She’s going to lord that over us the whole trip, isn’t she?” Rex asked. 

“Yep,” the other two answered. 

“Right, are we ready to go?” Qui-Gon asked, making them jump slightly. “We need to get going now if we want to get to New York in time. The truck has gone ahead with the supplies.” 

“How long is this leg of it?” Rex asked, taking a seat at the small table in the kitchenette. 

“Oh please don’t ask,” Ahsoka groaned from where she was laying on her new bed. “I don’t want to know how long I have to stay in this tin box with you smelly lot.” 

“Smelly? Me? Never,” Obi-Wan said incredulously, earning an elbow in the side from Anakin. 

“About an hour and forty five minutes,” Qui-Gon called back from where he was taking his seat at the wheel. 

“That’s not  _ too  _ bad,” Ahsoka acquiesced after a few seconds thought, “I can deal with that.” The bus’s engine revved and pulled away from its parking spot, causing the cups and plates to rattle in their cupboards. 

Rex and Ahsoka sat at the small table in the kitchenette and Anakin and Obi-Wan settled next to each other on the cushioned bench by the window, watching the world fly past them. 

<.>

They had two shows in New York in a dingy theatre downtown. Both performances however were sold out. It was a surprise to the group to find that most of their performances were sold out. They never realised how big of a following they actually had until their final show in Austin was fully booked. 

It was still a surprise to them to see about sixty people lined up on the sidewalk next to the theatre's entrance. When they spotted the bus going past them they began to wave ecstatically, some jumping up and down to get a better look as the four of them peered out of the windows. 

“We’re really going to have to play in front of them, aren’t we?” Obi-Wan said quietly, and the other three looked at him in astonishment.

“Don’t tell us you’re getting cold feet  _ now _ ?” Ahsoka asked him incredulously as the bus pulled to a stop out the back of the theatre. 

“No!” Obi-Wan exclaimed. “I’m just nervous. I’ve never played for this many people before.” 

“Well then, I hate to tell you this,” Qui-Gon said, stepping out from the driver's seat. “But this is going to be the smallest venue on this tour. The one in Dallas seats about five hundred people at least. And the final stop in Austin is an outdoor festival so although we’ve sold proper tickets for the standing area, some people might just stop to listen while they’re walking past.” 

Obi-Wan grew almost as red as a tomato, burying his head in Anakin’s shoulder as Rex and Ahsoka fist bumped in excitement and Anakin laughed at his expense. 

The seats closest to the stage in the theatre had been taken away to make room for a standing area. And metal barriers had been set up to leave about two feet of room between the crowd and the stage. 

Set up was quick as the crew had brought in their equipment and instruments with practised ease, meaning that Rex, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan and Anakin were herded into their dressing rooms for the hair and make up team to get their hands on them as soon as they stepped over the threshold. 

There wasn’t much to be done as they would sweat it off within half an hour, but they tried their best, adding a bit of bronzer and fixing their hairdos. 

The band could hear the crowd gathering, the noise level rising gradually, and Obi-Wan could feel the butterflies taking up residence in his stomach. 

He felt as if he physically couldn’t look at the audience without freezing as they made their way on to raucous applause and Obi-Wan took his seat behind the drums, sticks in hand. He breathed deeply as Anakin introduced them and the concert began. 

Halfway through, they took a quick break to grab a drink of water, and Anakin suddenly caught a flash of awfully familiar ginger hair. He smiled in glee as he waved to their friends, but Bant mouthed with surprising dexterity for him to not tell Obi-Wan. Garen and Reeft winked at him mischievously as Anakin nodded in understanding and Barriss waved from where she stood by Garen. 

They darted off the stage at the end of their set, but Anakin suddenly swung around to them. 

“I want to do an encore,” he told them over the ear splitting screams from the crowd begging for more. 

“With what?!” Ahsoka asked. “We have nothing left and I don’t think they want to hear a repeat.” 

“No, it wouldn’t be one of ours,” Anakin said, and he thought it over for a few seconds. His blue eyes suddenly glinted, and Obi-Wan could practically  _ see  _ a lightbulb go off in his head. 

“Let’s do a classic,” he told them, and the other three nodded in understanding. 

They rushed back onstage to a roar of cheering, which was quieted quickly by Anakin putting up his hands for silence, guitar slung across his back. 

The theatre went deathly silent as the audience watched them curiously, and Anakin nodded to Obi-Wan. 

A rhythm echoed through the building, and the crowd stirred and caught onto it immediately, knowing it like an old friend and making the walls shake with the noise. 

Ahsoka started them off, her smooth and eerie tone making way for a raspy rockers voice, which was then followed by the crowd shouting the chant back. Obi-Wan kept up the steady beat, feeling as if a fire had been lit under his ass. 

Rex then took the wheel, voice booming over the microphone as the crowd's cries grew louder, and louder. From the wings, Qui-Gon watched on in astonishment, a smile stretching his lips wide. 

Finally, Anakin finished it off and the concert ended in an explosion of cheers and the four of them bowed low at the waist, big stupid grins spread across their faces as the lights came up and they left the stage. 

A mass of limbs and a whirl of pink – almost orange – hair rammed into Obi-Wan as soon as they stepped into the wings. He coughed as the wind was literally blown out of him as the person wrapped their arms around his shoulders. 

“Bant?!” he cried in surprise once he was able to pull the girl away from him to get a good look at her. He spied Garen and Reeft over her shoulder, and Barriss – who was currently being coddled and smothered by Ahsoka in the corner. 

“What are you guys doing here?” he asked incredulously. 

“Well, we thought we’d come down and stalk you until you noticed. We were going to keep it up until Dallas, but Anakin spotted us in the crowd,” Bant replied in the most deadpan voice she could muster.

“Ha, ha,” Obi-Wan said, “I’ll be sure to tell Padmé you’ve taken her job in stalking.” 

“We also wanted to hear you play, so that was a bonus,” Reeft chipped in, chuckling as he made sure to ruffle Obi-Wan’s hair as the drummer tried desperately to duck away from. The two of them were only a few months apart in age but Reeft still treated him like he was a child. 

“Did you have anything to do with this?” Obi-Wan asked Anakin from where he and Garen were conversing. 

Anakin looked up with the most innocent expression he could pull, big blue eyes widened even larger as he pointed to himself. “Who? Little ol’ me?” 

“Yes you,” Obi-Wan retorted, jabbing his fingers in his sides to make Anakin curl up as he snorted in laughter. 

“It was all us,” Bant told Obi-Wan, smiling at the two’s antics. “We wanted to see you play, and catch up a bit, if that’s in order?” And at this she turned to where Qui-Gon had been watching the scene unfold from where he stood. 

“No, I believe that’s perfectly acceptable,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. 

They were back on the road again a day later, all slumped over either in their beds on the bus or on the sofa next to the kitchenette.  _ Although _ , Obi-Wan thought as he arched his back in an attempt to get comfortable, _ calling it a sofa is a bit of a stretch _ . 

The drive to Atlanta would be long and arduous, with a stop at a hotel for a break and a sleep in between. Anakin had offered to take over the wheel from Qui-Gon, but the man had taken one look at Obi-Wan’s frantic head shakes and Ahsoka’s gesticulating hands and politely declined. 

The show that night was great, the atmosphere almost blowing the roof off of the theatre and all four of them were sweating buckets by the end of it. But there was no time for a break, and they were hustled back onto the bus to head for Nashville. 

Obi-Wan was astonished each time at the sheer amount of people that turned up every show, although he didn’t usually get to see many of their faces as he stayed behind his kit. But, from where he sat he could see Ahsoka, Anakin and Rex thriving on the energy, each performance better than the last. 

It was  _ inspiring  _ and spurred all of them onto Dallas. 

<.>

Polished shoes stepped lightly and quietly on the carpeted floor. Eyes took in walls and corridors he hadn’t seen for a few months, admiring the new decor. A raise in the budget perhaps? 

He breezed past the reception desk, not even looking backwards as the woman behind it leapt from her chair and desperately dialed a number on the phone beside her. He didn’t even pay attention to the surprised looks he was getting from the other employees as he turned a corner. 

“Sir, he’s  _ here, _ ” the receptionist muttered into the speaker, deadly serious in her tone. 

He continued his journey until he was standing in front of a cherry wood door, not even bothering to knock as he threw it wide open. He smirked when he gained no reaction from the two men inside. In fact, both looked nonplussed with his appearance. 

He didn’t say a word as he took a seat, elegantly crossing his legs. Mace and Yoda both levelled a stare at him as Palpatine elegantly pulled a pipe out from his pocket. Mace wrinkled his nose, knowing how much the office would stink when he was gone. 

“I suppose you expected my arrival?” Palpatine began, blowing out a perfect smoke ring which hovered over the desk. “And I  _ hope  _ you know why I’m here?” 

“We know that you’re here on completely  _ invalid  _ terms,” Mace told him, left hand clenching into a fist in anger and partial irritation. 

“Ah, but you see, they’re not totally invalid, now are they?” he snipped back, turning his narrowed eyes onto him. 

“Come to argue, you have not. Enlighten us, you will,” Yoda cut in, his calm temperament a balm on the room’s tension. 

“I’ve come here today to tell you of the verdict on your little...problem,” Palapatine began to explain. “The thing is, they’re not entirely sure this new endeavour will save the label from the inevitable. You’ve only had one album, correct?” 

“With plans for another one. And a possible world tour,” Mace said, feeling slightly defensive. 

“Ah yes. But don’t forget there is cost to those things, isn’t there? And it’s best not to bite off more than you can chew, no?” Palpatine said, his expression much like the cat that got the cream. 

“Possible, is it not, for an extension?” Yoda asked, steepling his fingers as he thought. “Allowed you are not, to begin sinking your claws, hm?” 

Palpatine bristled, clearing his throat almost pompously as he emptied the remaining tobacco into an ashtray to his left. “Right, yes. Well,” he said, standing up, “I will return when I next get word of anything. And I thank you, for keeping my seat warm.” 

He smirked as the door swung closed behind him, and Mace growled lowly in his throat as he watched the slimy man go. “I hate him,” he told Yoda and the older man nodded. 

“Boiled in his own pudding, he should be,” Yoda replied with an amused twinkle in his eye. 

<.>

Houston was unbearably hot, and Anakin mockingly apologised to the people in the front. He said they were in the “splash zone” which caused laughter to bounce around the venue. They didn’t finish until late, but Anakin grabbed for Obi-Wan’s arm when they stepped off the stage, waving to the other two as they left. 

Their hotel room was large and lucious, more than they had expected and Anakin dragged Obi-Wan over to flop on the bed. Both of them were still running on the incredible high that came with the concert. 

“That...was the best we’ve ever played,” Obi-Wan said breathlessly, and Anakin nodded. “Is it something in the air?” 

“Nah, must be the water,” Anakin replied, drawing a huff of laughter from the drummer. 

“Why did we leave Ahsoka and Rex at the venue? I thought we were meant to help with the clean up, no?” Obi-Wan asked, turning his head to look at his partner. 

“Well, I thought they’d be okay on our own and it’d be a perfect time to chill for a bit,” he explained. “We’re leaving for Austin tomorrow so we probably won’t get a chance to until we get home. And even then, I heard Qui-Gon on the phone with Mace looking very serious.” 

“That can’t be good,” Obi-Wan said, chuckling. 

A sudden knock on the door drew Anakin from the bed, and he swung it wide so that the tray of food could be placed on the bed beside Obi-Wan. The man pulled himself up into a sitting position almost reluctantly, but Anakin could see his eyes light up in interest at the food. 

“Thank you,” Anakin told the attendant, slipping a small tip into his hand as he left. 

“What’s this?” Obi-Wan asked, lifting the plate coverings to reveal a complete feast. 

“I thought we could have a small treat,” Anakin told him, switching on the TV and crawling onto the bed with him. He easily flicked through the channels before settling on mindless rubbish as the two of them settled in to eat. 

They practically licked their plates, and both could feel their eyelids droop with exhaustion.

“We have to set an alarm if we don’t want Qui-Gon barging in tomorrow morning,” Obi-Wan said through a yawn, and Anakin reached over his head for his phone, turning on about twenty alarms before tossing it back onto the bedside table with a clatter. 

“I was going to make this a proper date,” he told Obi-Wan, tracing his fingers over the drummer’s shoulder as he snuggled against his chest. “Take you out to dinner and everything.” 

“Honestly, this is way nicer,” Obi-Wan murmured sleepily, winding an arm around Anakin’s waist. “I don’t want to leave this bed at all.” 

Anakin chuckled at his partner’s whiny tone, wiggling further under the covers and allowing his eyes to finally slide shut. 

<.>

It was a month later that found the four of them back home once again. And staring down the gazes of both Mace and Yoda. 

They’d been a hit in each and every stop, and the proceeds from the tour lined the pockets of Temple Records nicely but they weren’t enough to keep Palpatine from breathing down their necks. They needed something else, something  _ new _ . 

Qui-Gon suddenly unfurled the newspaper he held under his elbow, and proceeded to read a headline from where he stood off to the side. “Star group ‘The 501st’ trump the weeks number 1 hits with their hit ‘Shadow Huntin’, and along with their sellout tour through most of Texas, this group is one to watch out for.” 

The newspaper was proudly placed on Yoda’s desk, who flipped through it slowly. “Hm,” he said suddenly, drawing their attention. “Unlimited Power record’s ‘Darth’ sell out most of the west coast, playing to crowds up to one thousand strong. Will nothing stop them from musical domination?’” 

“You see,  _ that _ ,” Mace said, “is your competition. Now, I think Palpatine probably has many fingers in many pies to make that happen, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be a threat.” 

“What’s the plan then,” Ashoka asked, sitting forwards eagerly. 

“We want a second album,” Mace told them, and the four cheered in enthusiasm. “One that’ll be bigger and more detailed than the last.”

“A tour, we want as well,” Yoda cut in, and the four of them were starting to look like kids in a candy store. “But, detailed this album must be.” 

“How do we do that?” Rex asked. “We had a music video with a plotline last time, not just us mindlessly singing into microphones.” 

“Ah, well that’s where we have to work together with the production team. We need a concept, clothing, new lyrics, new songs, everything,” Qui-Gon said, stepping in to explain. But it didn’t seem to be computing as the four members stared at him in confusion. 

Mace, deciding to be kind and save his oldest friend, cleared his throat to get their attention towards him again. “Have you ever heard of BTS?” 

<.>

“How’re you not sick?” Obi-Wan asked thickly before blowing his nose for what felt like the umpteenth time. He tossed the used tissue towards the end of the bed, watching as it joined the others miserably. 

“Why is the sky blue, or grass green?” Anakin retorted, shuffling the paper into the bin before shrugging at him. “I don’t know. I usually just don’t get sick from the cold, or rain.” 

“Well whoop de doo for you,” Obi-Wan grouched, snuffling again and wiping his nose on his sleeve, much to Anakin’s disgust. 

It was his own fault for not going out with a suitable umbrella. But Obi-Wan was diligent to throw some of the blame onto Anakin, much to the other man’s indignation. When Obi-Wan was sick, he turned grumpy, and irritated. 

It always came down to Anakin spending at least two days with a partner who complained at everything for half of it and slept for the rest. This time was no different. 

Anakin left the bedroom once he knew that Obi-Wan was comfortable, heading towards the sitting room to face the empty notebook on the coffee table. Creating an album with interconnecting themes and a literal plotline was harder than he thought. And with Obi-Wan out of commission, he was going to have to tackle it on his own. 

His guitar felt good in his hands, considering he had been using one of the Label’s backups to avoid any accidents. He sat plucking out a melody for a few minutes, scribbling down notes and lyrics as he went before...he got stuck. 

One piece of melody ran over and over in his head. It was one of those that he  _ knew  _ would be good if it would just rearrange itself in his head to work properly. 

He was close to giving up when he heard a sniff behind him, and turned to see Obi-Wan standing in the doorway to the bedroom, blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. 

“It should go up,” he said through a stuffy nose. 

“Hm, maybe,” Anakin hummed, waiting for Obi-Wan to sit down beside him, bundled up before he tried it, mouth almost splitting with a wide grin. 

Obi-Wan idly picked up the lyrics sheet as Anakin went over what he had, singing them quietly to himself. 

“You should sing more,” Anakin commented, startling Obi-Wan slightly. “You’re good! And I think people would appreciate a new voice in this album.” 

Obi-Wan sent him a dubious look before wiping his nose again on a tissue. “I very much doubt that,” he muttered, his cheeks growing pink, and Anakin sighed, knowing he would get nowhere with Obi-Wan like this. 

“Qui-Gon sent the concept for the final song a few hours ago. The amount of detail gone into it is amazing. I don’t know how I’ll stop myself from explaining the plot, it's so good,” Anakin gushed. 

“But that’s the point of this album. It’s to get the fans talking and theorising with each other; build a community,” Obi-Wan said, pulling the blanket closer to his body. “Won’t really work if we give the plot outright.”

“I know, I know,” Anakin grumbled, scratching out a word on the page harshly in annoyance. 

His phone suddenly started buzzing beside his leg, and he picked it up. “Oh, it’s Ahsoka,” he said. thumbing the screen to accept the call. And proceeded to get a lovely view of her nostrils.

“Hey Snips,” Anakin called to her, watching as the screen was brought down to show her full face. 

“Hey ‘Soka,” Obi-Wan said, sniffling again and feebly reaching for his tissues. 

“God Obi, you look  _ awful _ ,” Ahsoka said, taking in his miserable form. 

“I’m so grateful for your concern,” he snipped back, blowing his nose loudly. “To what do we owe the honour?” 

“Wanted to check in on you guys, see how the invalid is,” Ahsoka said. “Also to tell you,” and she leaned forward so that she was whispering into the mic, “I saw Palpatine in the building today.” 

“What, the creepy guy who owns Ultimate Power who also was trumping Padmé in stalking skills? That Palpatine?” Anakin asked. 

“The very one,” came Ahsoka’s reply. “I saw him this morning as I was coming in to collaborate with the writers on my single. He came out of Yoda and Mace’s office looking surprisingly chipper. I didn’t like it, that guy is really shady.” 

“He is that,” Anakin said as Obi-Wan suddenly erupted into a sneezing fit and Anakin cringed. “Okay, well just keep us up to date, yeah? I’m gonna go take care of our invalid.” 

“Get better soon Obi!” Ahsoka said and Anakin hung up. 

He turned in his seat on the sofa, prompting Obi-Wan to do the same. “Ghibli?” Anakin asked. 

“Ghibli,” Obi-Wan said with relief. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudoses and the comments! If you've enjoyed this chapter do leave a comment! Wonder what Old Palps is up to hmmm...


	8. Chapter eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Cue Adele* This is the end~ 
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with this story! Please do leave a comment and kudos 'cause it keeps the machine well oiled :)

It was boiling hot in the studio, but Anakin didn’t seem to mind as he bounced on the balls of his feet. He felt very smart in the deep navy suit he had been put in, and his hands fiddled with the cufflinks and the hemline until Obi-Wan slapped his hands away as if he were a child. All four of them were dressed up and presentable. After all, this  _ was  _ live television, and as Aayla had said, they needed to look their best. 

Anakin could hear the audience from where they were backstage, getting final touch ups from the stylists who buzzed around them like bees. He could see one fix a strand of Ahsoka’s hair that had gotten in her eye, one fixing Rex’s lapel and the other fluffing up Obi-Wan’s quiff out of the corner of his eyes as his own brushed off the shoulders of his suit. 

“This is gonna be so fun,” Anakin said, almost bouncing up and down like a child in a sweet shop. “And this is the first out of three late night shows?” 

“Well, I don’t like that we have to do them in one week. Makes my mouth dry at the thought of all that talking,” Rex commented, rolling his shoulders in nervousness. 

“It’s good PR for the album, and the tour. Which we’ll be back to in no time so keep your hair on,” Ahsoka told him, and Rex reached out to swipe her lightly but got a light tap from the stylist in front of him. 

“I feel as if this is going over the top just slightly,” Obi-Wan said as they were led to the wings on the left side of the stage. 

“In what way? We sold out most of the big venues on the west coast, our album is a hit and our fan base grew stronger than Darth’s,” Anakin said, grabbing hold of Obi-Wan’s hand suddenly and kissing the knuckles gently. “We deserve this.” 

“Now, please ladies and gentlemen, welcome onto the stage the 501st; Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and Rex,” Jimmy Fallon called out, encouraging the audience to erupt into applause as the four of them walked on stage. 

Each shook hands with the host and took a seat on the two love seats sitting side by side beside the desk. Each of them gave a small wave to the audience as they did so, earning a few shrieks and whistles from the crowd. Obi-Wan could feel the blush inching up his neck.

“It is so nice to meet you finally,” Jimmy said. “I am a huge fan of your music and the message you bring with it.” 

“Thank you,” Anakin replied, his charming smile switched on immediately. 

“Tell me, what was the inspiration for this new album?” Jimmy asked, and Anakin gestured to Ahsoka. 

“Well, we were inspired as a group by the K-pop band BTS’ ‘Most Beautiful Moments in Life’ series and how the videos that accompanied actually had a story and secrets underneath. We wanted to create something that had meaning, that had layers rather than just generating another boring album.” 

More applause from the audience as the next question was asked. 

“And each of you wrote a song, correct?” 

“Yeah, so we each came up with the concept and lyrics and Anakin wrote out the melodies and then we all came together to create the story,” Rex explained. 

“So, are we able to know who wrote each one because you all sing in each, am I correct?” Jimmy asked. 

“Well I wrote ‘Released’, Obi-Wan wrote ‘More than this’, Ahsoka wrote ‘We can be greater’ and Rex wrote ‘Together’, which as you know is the single for the album,” Anakin said, and Jimmy nodded in fascination. 

“And what is a little metta thing that we  _ can  _ tell you is that those four titles make one sentence,” Ahsoka chipped in. 

“Ah, that’s very clever,” Jimmy said. “So, I guess that’d mean it would be ‘We can be greater, more than this, released together?” 

“Exactly,” Anakin said. 

“And we’re not allowed to know anything about the plot?” Jimmy asked, sounding somewhat hopeful but the four of them shook their heads. “Well, one thing we can know about is their newest single. Ladies and gentlemen I give you the 501st with ‘Together’.” 

**<.>**

“Ridiculous, this is getting,” Yoda commented as Palpatine sat across from the two of them for what felt like the one hundredth time this week. His slippery smile was prominent, and Yoda slid the Grammy award on his desk closer to himself.

“Well, it is the Board’s wish for me to come and check on the progress of the money,” Palpatine explained, steepling his fingers over his crossed knees. 

“That doesn’t mean you have to come in here just to sit and watch us every second day,” Mace said, the veins on his head standing out slightly in his rage.

“Oh, but I think it does,” Palpatine said saccharinely, smiling at the two of them. 

**<.>** ****

“How many more of these?” Ahsoka grumbled, watching as the crew flitted about the place. 

“One more after this,” Rex told her. “And it’s not as serious as these two.” 

“This isn’t going to be serious either,” came the voice of the producer. “Ellen wants to play a bit of ‘Never have I Ever’ with you guys as this is your first time on the show. It’ll be just a bit of fun and banter.” 

“Oh thank god,” Ahsoka said, shoulders slumping in relief as microphones were clipped to their clothes and they were directed out to the stage. 

Ellen DeGeneres was shorter than Obi-Wan expected, and she had a very good handshake. Each of them waved to the crowd in greeting as they took their seats, facing the hostess with their camera smiles at the ready. 

“First off,” Ellen began, “congratulations on the new album! I listened to it yesterday and it sounds amazing.” 

They thanked her graciously. Obi-Wan suddenly wondered whether he’d ever get used to someone saying that to him. 

“And, I saw that ‘Together’ was nearing the top ten on the Billboard chart. That’s pretty amazing, right?” she called out and the audience cheered in approval. 

“We were pretty shocked about it too, to be honest,” Ahsoka told her. “We didn’t expect the album to blow up as much, but we’ve loved seeing the interaction that has gone on because of it, and how our fans are joining together to theorise about it.” 

“And we’re  _ still  _ not allowed to know?” Ellen asked and they all shook their heads a little guiltily. 

“Well, seeing as this is your first time on the show, I thought we could play a game of ‘Never have I Ever’ so take these paddles,” she said, handing them out, “and we’ll get started.” 

The four of them glanced at each other surreptitiously as they took the wooden paddles that were handed to them. 

“Never have I ever sent an embarrassing text to someone,” Ellen called out, and three paddles were turned to ‘I have’. 

The crowd cheered and laughed as Rex, and Obi-Wan blushed and Anakin almost slapped the back of Ahsoka’s head. But she acquiesced and turned hers over too. 

“All of you?!” Ellen asked incredulously with a wide, disbelieving grin.

“Well, when you’re on tour you do go to sleep late,” Obi-Wan admitted, but didn’t offer up an explanation. 

“Right,” said Ellen. “Never have I ever used someone else’s toothbrush.” 

Anakin’s was the only one that didn’t turn over. 

“Whose?” was all Ellen asked, and Anakin’s eyes darted to Ahsoka, who gaped at him and tried to whack his leg with her paddle.

“It was an accident!” Anakin cried. 

“I’m gonna have to disinfect it now!” Ahsoka retaliated, and the other two laughed. 

“Never have I ever spilled food on someone,” Ellen asked, and this time Rex was the outlier. 

“I’m very clumsy,” he said, ducking his head in embarrassment. “But it wasn’t hot food so it wasn’t too bad.” 

And the other three howled with laughter as the memory came back to them. Yoda had had to have his trousers dry cleaned twice before the stain finally came out. 

“I think we have time for one more,” Ellen said as the giggles finally petered out. “Never have I ever gotten drunk at a college party.” 

This time, all four paddles turned to the positive, and the crowd laughed and cheered at them. 

The wrap up was quick and easily done, and Ellen thanked them and promoted the album before it cut to the messages. They each shook her hand again before being shepherded back to their hotel room for their concert that night.

Two down, one to go. 

**<.>**

“Wait, you mean he doesn’t even  _ drive  _ it?!” Ahsoka cried out, staring in shock at the set up in front of her. 

“Wait, you mean you actually  _ believed  _ he was driving the whole time?” Rex asked in return, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “‘Soka, have you noticed how many times he blatantly takes his hands from the steering wheel? Or turns to look at his guest?” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it would be pulled along by a bloody  _ trailer _ !” she said incredulously. 

“Snips, come on, use your head once in a while,” Anakin said, chuckling. 

“Oh like you’re prone to use yours?” Ahsoka retaliated snarkily. 

“Children please,” came Obi-Wan’s tired sigh as the producers led them into the vehicle. 

They had been told before to act as if they were driving with Corden to ‘work’ and act as natural as they could when they entered as the cameras would be rolling immediately. Anakin sat up front, the other three behind with Ahsoka in the middle. 

“Hey, how’s it going man,” Anakin said to James as the four of them climbed in. 

“Hey, thanks for doing this guys,” the host said to all of them as his hands spun the driving wheel uselessly and the trailer pulled away from the curb. “I was really worried ‘cause I thought I’d caught you at a bad time.” 

“No, no, not at all,” Obi-Wan assured him with a kind smile. 

“Do you mind if we listen to some music?” James asked and the four of them agreed enthusiastically as the first beats of “Shadow Huntin’” blasted through the speakers. “I love this song,” the host cried over the noise. 

Anakin sang along to the track, and he could hear Ahsoka harmonising in the back of the car along to herself in the recording. He turned in his seat to catch Obi-Wan tapping his hands along to the beat, one ingrained in his head from many performances.

“That song was your breakout single, right?” James asked. 

“Yes, it was the one that got to the top twenty when it originally released,” Anakin said. 

“And I understand that it’s very special to all of you,” James commented, turning his head to glance at the lead singer beside him. 

“Yeah, we each thought that having a song that would inspire strength in our listeners was a great thing, and “Shadow Huntin’” is all about facing and hunting your own inner demons,” Anakin explained. 

“It was also the first song we wrote for the album,” Ahsoka explained, a surge of pride burning hot in her chest. 

It suddenly changed to ‘More than this’ and the drums boomed through the speakers once again. As each of them wrote one song each on their own, they unanimously decided that they would sing it, so Obi-Wan’s smooth tones purred through the speakers, getting louder as the music increased in speed. 

Once it ended, James began to speak again. “So that was your song, Obi-Wan?” he asked. 

“Yes, that one’s mine. I’m not usually the one to be a vocalist so the change was interesting,” he said, and Anakin beamed at him from the front seat. 

“And you each sing your own song?” James asked, and they nodded. “What was the reasoning for doing the plot based music videos? Because you’ve said that you were inspired by BTS to have this concept. Is there a reasoning behind it?” 

“We wanted the fans to band together as a community. And we saw that BTS did exactly that with the videos they created for songs like ‘Run’ or ‘I Need U’ and we collectively thought it was a good idea,” Rex explained.

“Ah, so the song titles that come together as a sentence do the same?” James asked.

“Exactly,” Obi-Wan said from behind him. 

They finished up filming shortly after that, ending where they started at the front of the studio. They shook hands with James as they left, thanking him for a great interview and being led away by their team of security back to their hotel for their last concert that night. 

**<.>**

A tense silence hung around the office, surrounding the four band members and the CEOs sitting across from them. They stared at the pile of paper sitting in the middle of the desk, as if it would disappear if they glared at it harder.

“Impossible to escape, the truth is,” Yoda suddenly pondered, steepling his fingers underneath his chin.

“But still, all that work and it didn’t amount to enough?” Qui Gon said, furrowing his brow as he strode up to the table, leaning in to get a better look at the papers. 

“It is what it is,” Mace said tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Either we come up with it, or we’re done.” 

“What if we held a big concert?” Ahsoka suddenly asked, and the others frowned at her in confusion. “Here me out,” she said quickly, “what if we rented out a large venue, like Liacouras Center large and we got us, Tahl, maybe even the Wolf Pack and a few others to play. But we make it big, big enough to sell out the venue.” 

“That could work,” Qui Gon admitted, “and with the press it would garner, we’d get more artists to sign with us. Of course, we’d have to plan it out carefully, it would be the largest concert we’ve organised in months.” 

The room suddenly seemed to hold its breath before Mace suddenly leapt from the chair, striding around the desk and out the door, where they heard him shouting for the receptionist, Tahl and Padmé from the corridor. 

**<.>**

Obi-Wan was grateful to see his front door at the end of the day. He had been roped in by Qui Gon to help in organising the set list for the concert. Tahl and the Wolf Pack were happy to perform, and a few other smaller acts stepped forward as well. They had at least five artists, but it wasn’t enough. 

So, Qui Gon had sent Obi-Wan home with a satchel full of papers and contacts, ones that could pick up a few songs easily, while he chased Ki Adi-Mundi from where she’d ended up running a coffee shop in Brooklyn. 

However, Anakin managed to surprise him as when Obi-Wan unlocked the door, it swung open to the sight of candles lit, rose petals scattered over the floor and dinner set up for two in their small dining room. Anakin himself stood in front of the door, wearing a pair of jeans and a light blue jumper, an apron that said ‘kiss the cook’ covering his front.

Obi-Wan gazed in wonder as he let his bag gently hit the floor, and Anakin approached to pull him in for a kiss. It was chaste and sweet, and Obi-Wan groaned in pleasure as Anakin’s hands came up to massage his shoulders. 

“What’s this for?” he asked drowsily, giving his partner a peck on the cheek. 

His partner smiled almost dopily, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist and leaning his forehead against his. “Happy Anniversary,” he said quietly. And the world suddenly stopped. 

Obi-Wan’s blue-green eyes grew wide with surprise and it felt as if a hole was created in his stomach and his heart dropped to his feet. He hadn’t realised it. He hadn’t checked the date he’d been so wrapped up in the organisation for the concert. 

He could feel himself beginning to panic, but he suddenly noticed that Anakin wasn’t worried, or upset. On the contrary, he was still smiling at Obi-Wan. 

“Why are you smiling?” he asked, sounding slightly desperate. “I’m so, so sorry Anakin. I completely forgot because Qui Gon needed help with the concert, and I lost track of the date, and I was going to get you something, I swear--” 

Anakin suddenly cupped Obi-Wan’s cheek, turning his gaze up to meet his. “Hey,” he said, “it’s okay, I knew you would be a bit busy. And I don’t mind that you didn’t get me anything, I think time together alone is a way better gift than one bought in a shop.” 

This time Obi-Wan smiled dopily, and Anakin led him easily towards the table. 

“Did you cook all this?” Obi-Wan asked as Anakin pulled a roast chicken from the oven. 

“Well, mom helped,” he admitted, setting the bird down on the table and untying the apron from the back. “And Ahsoka might’ve been at the end of a panicked call. But! I didn’t burn down the flat.” 

“No, you didn’t and I’d call that a win,” Obi-Wan said with a wide smile. 

It tasted as good as it smelt, and Obi-Wan felt full and cosy when he’d finished, dabbing his lips with the napkin. He made to stand, but Anakin suddenly berated him, jumping to his own feet and quickly gathering the plates. 

“Dessert will be ready in a sec,” he said as he wandered into the kitchen. “And then,” he called, “I have a special gift in the bedroom.” 

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asked, taking a sip from his wine glass. “Am I allowed to know what this present is?” 

“Just think of Russian Roulette,” Anakin told him conspiratorially and Obi-Wan laughed, digging into his strawberries and cream. 

**<.>**

“How long until we’re on?” Ahsoka asked from her seat before a mirror, the sound of the audience outside and the flustered crew backstage almost giving her a headache. 

“Ten minutes,” Qui-Gon answered from where he stood behind the four of them, frantically checking the iPad he held tight in his grip. “Tahl is almost finished with her set. Provided she’s not called for an encore.” 

The concert had taken months of planning and preparation, but it had been worth it. The venue seated about ten thousand people, and every ticket was sold out. 

The sound of the music played on stage reverberated through the walls, and Obi-Wan could hear the thumping of the audience’s feet as they jumped. He had to close his eyes so that his stylist could apply copious amounts of hairspray to his head, but the chaos behind his chair was obvious. 

“Any progress?” he asked Qui-Gon, not daring to move his head. 

“We’ve had a few large donations but nothing too impressive,” came the reply. Obi-Wan could hear the frown in his voice, and his own nerves spiked. 

He breathed out shakily, and suddenly found his palm in Anakin’s. “Hey,” he said, squeezing his hand. “We’ll be fine.” 

“I hope so,” Obi-Wan told him quietly, relieved to be let out of the chair. 

As they waited in the wings for Tahl’s set to finish, Anakin turned to the other three. 

“I wanted to say something before we started the set,” he began, shoulders tensing slightly in determination. 

“Any idea what?” Ahsoka asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Anakin looked at her in slight shock. “What? You’re the leader of this team, if you want to say something inspirational I don’t think any of  _ us  _ are going to stop you.” 

“Yeah, General,” Rex said, winking. 

“Alright. If you’re sure?” Anakin asked again, and Ahsoka rolled her eyes playfully, Rex chuckled fondly and Obi-Wan shook his head in slight exasperation. 

They heard Tahl call goodnight over jubilant shouts, and came off stage with a big smile on her face, cheeks pink. 

“It’s a really good crowd out there,” she told them as she passed. “Knock ‘em dead!” 

The shouts from the audience only got louder as the four of them wandered onstage, large smiles almost blindingly bright. 

With their instruments ready for them it only took a matter of moments to take their positions, and Anakin took his microphone in hand. 

“How you doing Philly!” he shouted, tilting his head back as the audience roared in answer. “Having a good time?” Again the crowd’s answer was enough to almost deafen a person. 

“Thank you so much for joining us tonight. This concert means a lot to all of us here in Temple Records,” Anakin began, quieting his tone so that the atmosphere sunk to less excitable levels. “By being here tonight, not only are you listening to music, you’re also supporting a company; a family. 

“A family that, in times of trouble, band together to support, and comfort each other. A family that makes really good music, even in the worst of times,” and Anakin had to pause to swallow hard, his emotions lodging themselves in his throat. “So please, if you haven’t already, help support our family. Go online, buy merch in the store, or even donate to one of the boxes as you leave. Help keep this family alive.” 

The crowd cheered in support, and Anakin turned towards the others to briefly wipe his eyes. “Let’s make some fucking music,” he told them with a wild grin. 

Obi-Wan began with the drum riff at the beginning of ‘Together’ and they were off, going through their set-list hard and fast. 

Anakin could honestly say it was the best they performed, better than when they had been on tour. The crowd ate up their infectious energy and seemed to love every song. Even when they set their amps aside for Ahsoka’s solo. 

But, as they bowed and came up again, breathing heavily and sweaty, Anakin caught sight of Qui-Gon on the phone. And a heavy sense of dread settled in his stomach. 

**<.>**

It was later that both Obi-Wan and Anakin in bed, having been sent home with strict instructions from Qui-Gon to get some rest. The direct quoting was so that the two of them “didn’t look like zombies” the next morning. Although, Anakin did think he’d make a good dead person. 

It was completely pitch dark outside, and their heavy curtains were drawn. Yet, it was still slightly luminous in their bedroom, which turned out to be because of Obi-Wan’s phone lying face up on his lap. With the brightest setting. 

Anakin pouted at him from where he lay propped up on his elbows. But Obi-Wan didn’t seem to be paying attention to him, fingernails clicking ominously loud in the quiet bedroom as he bit them. 

With a gentle yet firm grip, Anakin brought them down from Obi-Wan’s mouth, holding them between his own as he rubbed circles into Obi-Wan’s knuckles. That finally got Obi-Wan’s attention, and his blue-green gaze locked with Anakin’s. 

The anxiety was obvious and Anakin’s brows furrowed in concern. “Hey,” he said, “you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Obi-wan replied after a breath. “Just worried is all.” 

“About the concert? It’ll be fine. And if it isn’t, Qui-Gon is on the case,” Anakin told him with a cheeky smile, and Obi-Wan chuckled. 

“But what about the Label?” he asked. “Anakin, if it gets shut down we lose our  _ jobs.  _ Mace and Yoda lose their  _ legacy _ !” 

Obi-Wan shook his head as if he wanted to rid his brain of that thought by force. “It’s- There’s just too much at stake  _ not  _ to be worried.” 

“Well, we won’t be able to solve  _ anything  _ if we don’t get some sleep,” Anakin said, placing Obi-Wan’s phone back on the bedside table and gently easing him down under the covers. 

Anakin placed his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, arm coming up to hook around his waist until he was flush against the other’s side. It didn’t take long for the bedroom to fall silent once again. 

**<.>**

There was a large group of paparazzi out the front of the building when the group arrived that morning. The four of them took one look at the masses of flashing cameras, and the many men and women buzzing around like flies and immediately headed for the side entrance. 

The inside was as busy as it was outside. More than one assistant dashed by them, some dropping papers and using pens as accessories in their hair. 

They stared in slight awe, trying to make themselves as small a hindrance as possible as they weaved their way through the corridor to the lift at the other end. 

They stepped out to yet another raucous corridor, except this time it was filled with men carrying pieces of furniture to the stairs. The group exchanged confused glances and made their way to Mace and Yoda’s office. 

It was then that two very familiar desks were carried outside, handled with less care than was expected, and brought to the door of the stairs. 

“Hey!” Ahsoka called after the men carrying the tables away. “What’re you doing?! Those belong in here!” 

“Oh, but I’m afraid they don’t,” came a slimy, familiar voice from behind them. 

Each of them; Anakin, Obi-Wan, Rex and Ashoka turned with a ball of dread sitting in the bottom of their stomachs. 

Through the throng of people milling about the room, they were able to make out a mahogany desk taking up almost half of the space, a grand bookshelf to the left of it and a golden record being hung up on the wall next to the window. 

Behind the monstrosity of a table, sat Palpatine with his legs crossed one over the other and fingers steepled under his chin as he took in their collective shock in delight. He wore an extravagant suit, and suddenly brought his fingers forward to adjust the plaque on his desk that read; Sheeve Palpatine, CEO of Empire Records.

“I’m afraid Mace and Yoda no longer run this...fine establishment,” he told them with a wolfish grin. “It seems that you are under new management.” 


End file.
